


Something New

by Lapin



Series: Bridal Veil [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Courtship, Ficlet Collection, Kíli being a great brother, M/M, Nori - Freeform, Sexual Content, Stupid Love, Young Love, dori - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapin/pseuds/Lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli and Ori, and their courtship, from Ered Luin to Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ered Luin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli watches Fíli fail at courting Ori, and mostly isn't very helpful at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N An outsider's perspective on Fíli and Ori in the beginning. Also, I just love Kíli.

Fíli's been in love with Ori since Kíli was young enough to still be using a child's bow. It's mostly been a source of amusement over the years, occasionally one of embarrassment when his brother managed to make an arse out of himself in front of Ori for the hundredth time. 

Like now, as Ori turns red and gathers up his papers and pencils quickly, careful of the items even as his hands visibly shake. “No, wait, I didn't mean-” his brother tries vainly, but the damage is done. 

“I have to get back to Balin.” Ori says firmly, face flushed and looking like he's about to cry. “My hour is probably over.” He's got all his things in his bag now, and he's trying hard to leave, but his brother is still hoping to salvage the situation. 

“Ori, no, the clock hasn't even sounded,” 

“I have to go,” Ori insists, his bag over his shoulder, but now his brother's grabbed on to his arm, holding him still. “Fíli, I have to go!”

“You'll come to my weapons practice today though?” If Kíli was a less generous brother, he'd interject that it's both of their weapons practice, and he intends to best Fíli at least twice today. He is a generous brother though, so he keeps quiet and pretends he's not listening as his brother makes a fool of himself over a scribe. “You promised.”

“Dori doesn't want me to anymore.” Ori says, looking at the ground. “He says I've got no business down there.” 

“I invited you, that's good enough.” Kíli makes a note to himself to tell his brother that pathetic isn't attractive. 

Now the bell sounds, and Ori finally tugs out of Fíli's grip, dashing back off towards the halls where the scribes and artisans keep quarters. His brother stands there for a second, before making an aggravated sound and pressing his palms to his forehead. Kíli lets him swear for a bit, because he's nice, and then very helpfully tells him, “That was sad.” 

“Kíli, shut it.” His brother kicks at the ground. 

“Really sad,” he says. “You're lucky Uncle didn't see it. Or Dwalin.” His brother is glaring like Kíli is about to get a thrashing if he keeps on, but he's rather sure he can still outrun him. “Or for that matter, Dori.” That's what does it. Fíli dives on him, but he rolls away, and finds his feet, taking off towards the training grounds. 

Fíli manages to catch him eventually, tackling him hard into the ground and grinding dirt into his hair. They've finished their trade work for the day, and they don't have lessons, so now they're in Dwalin and their uncle's loving care for the rest of the day. 

Speaking of Uncle, he's strolled over to them, an amused look on his face. “What did you do this time, Kíli?” Dwalin hauls Fíli off him, and his uncle helps him stand back up. 

“He made Ori run away from him again.” Kíli is all too happy to share the joke, and Dwalin doesn't hide his chuckle as Fíli glares venomously at them all. 

“Lad, perhaps no one's told you, but the idea is for them to run _to_ you,” he claps Fíli on the back twice, the second time hard enough his brother stumbles a bit. 

“That's what I told him.” Kíli says, but his own laugh is cut short when his uncle slaps him over the back of the head. “What?” 

“Leave your brother be.” Thorin lectures. “Both of you, get yourselves together. I want you both going over hand-to-hand before either of you get to so much as look at a sword.” 

That doesn't bode well. 

He's right, of course. By the time Ori actually shows up, even Kíli's a bit sympathetic towards his brother. He's certainly not looking very majestic. Just pretty sweaty and dirty, like Kíli. Somehow, their uncle still looks like he stepped out of an epic ballad though. Kíli's really hoping that's a family trait he'll grow into. 

Considering Ori's not alone, he bets his brother wishes he'd grown into it already. Kíli doesn't know who the Dwarf is with Ori, and judging by the hateful look on his brother's face, he doesn't either. Not a good sign, because he's good looking, and he's awfully close to Ori, going so far as to throw an arm around him and smirk at him. Not only that, Ori is chattering excitedly, barely looking at them, gesticulating big and smiling wider than Kíli's ever seen him. 

He's suddenly afraid Fíli is going to hurt himself, or more importantly Kíli, by swinging too wide or too hard. “Oi, get your head together,” he hisses. “You're not going to impress anyone if you knock yourself over with your own sword.” 

“Do you know him?” Fíli asks. “I've never seen him before.”

“No.” And Kíli would have remembered that hairstyle. It's pretty memorable. 

“He doesn't look like someone Dori would want around him.” Fíli misses him by an inch, and Kíli dances away. He's not as good with a sword as Fíli, but if he puts in a good effort, they'll finish in time for Fíli to practice his forms and Kíli to get to move on to his bow and his targets. 

“Dori doesn't want _you_ around him.” Kíli reminds him. 

His brother scowls. “Only because he thinks I have bad intentions.”

“You do.” Kíli reminds him of that too. 

“I do not!” Fíli gets him with the flat of his blade. 

“Ow!” Kíli did not deserve that, so he whacks his brother hard in the shins with his own sword. “It's not my fault you can't talk to him! Don't take it out on me!” 

Dwalin's not watching anymore, and their uncle is watching Dwalin curiously. The big Dwarf is turning red, gripping the handle of one of his war hammers. He keeps pointing over at the stranger, and if Kíli knows Dwalin's angry face, and he does, he's swearing. Thorin being Thorin, he just shakes his head, and it looks like he's telling Dwalin to let it go. 

The stranger with Ori doesn't seem to have noticed. He's grinning down at Ori, gesturing wildly, like he's telling a story.

It's at that point that Fíli's patience snaps, and he leaves Kíli to stride over there and poke his nose in Ori's business. Kíli almost lets him make a fool of himself on his own, but then his better nature gets a hold of him and he follows, if only to save Fíli from himself. Thorin and Dwalin are too absorbed in their conversation to notice they've stopped, but Kíli knows there will be a reprimand later. Still, he can't let Fíli ruin all his chances. He doesn't actually want him to be miserable. 

“Ori,” Fíli calls, and even Kíli's a bit hurt at how Ori immediately starts to close up. They're friends, aren't they? “Why don't you introduce us?” 

“Or - and here's a thought, little princeling - you could ask me for my name yourself.” There's something in the stranger's eyes, a twinkle of mischief that lets Kíli know the stranger knows exactly what's going on. His arm tightens around Ori, and Ori's face lights up. Kíli can almost feel Fíli wilt beside him. 

“Have to forgive Fíli,” he says. “I'm the thinker between the pair of us. I'm Kíli, he's Fíli. And you are?” He elbows his brother as subtly as he can, hoping he can remind Fíli that desperate isn't charming. At all. 

“Nori,” the Dwarf inclines his head. 

“He's my second brother.” Ori pipes in adoringly, and Fíli's relief is almost palpable. “The middle one.” 

Nori sighs dramatically. “Neither the lovely eldest, nor the sweet youngest. Leaves me with very few respectable roles to play.” He winks, and there's a flash of silver up his sleeve.

None of the Brothers Ri look alike, not really, but they're all very good-looking. Their mother had been very beautiful, supposedly. She died before Kíli can remember, not long after Ori was born. All her sons are the same, beautiful, but in different ways. Dori's a classic beauty, refined and strong. Ori is sweet and innocent. And now here's another, and he's just as different. He's the sort of Dwarf you know is trouble, but welcome trouble, at least for a time. 

Kíli's not going to lie, not even for Fíli. When Fíli had first noticed Ori, he'd assumed his brother had just fallen for a lovely face in the line of Ri, like about a hundred Dwarrows before him. It's probably why Dori doesn't want him within a stone's throw of Ori. He knows Fíli better than anyone though, and he knows his brother likes the way Ori smiles and the way he writes and how kind he is and how clever. 

It looks like Nori's thoughts are running more towards Dori's line of thinking though, judging by the way he's glaring at Fíli, just a little, and the way he produces a knife from nowhere to dance through his fingers. It's a neat trick. Kíli wonders if he could teach him. 

“I could have sworn I made it very clear what would happen if I saw you again in this life, Nori.” Dwalin's joined them, their uncle at his side. 

“Cocky, to think you can follow through on it.” Nori's cheeky, but the knife he's twirling about his fingers looks awfully sharp. “How have you been, Captain? Got some more ink since we saw each other last, don't you?” 

If Kíli didn't know better, and he really doesn't, he'd say the second Brother Ri is flirting with Dwalin. 

In any case, Dwalin looks like he's one second away from throttling him. 

“I've been asking after you, actually.” His uncle interjects, and now there's a bit more respect in Nori's eyes. “Your older brother claimed he had no way to contact you. That you would appear when you felt like it.” 

Nori inclines his head. “If I'd known you were asking for me, I'd have felt like it sooner, your Majesty.” 

“Now's as good a time as any.” Thorin looks at Kíli and Fíli. “Individual work, if you both please. And you may move on to your bow, if you like, but I want you to use the crossbow.” Only his uncle can raise and dash his hopes so quickly. He hates the crossbow. “And Fíli, focus on your forms. You nearly took off your brother's ear earlier, and his ability to listen is poor enough already.” Well, that was an unnecessary jab, Kíli feels, but his uncle puts a hand on his shoulder fondly before he and Dwalin leave with Nori, talking in low, serious voices. 

Ori looks a bit disappointed, even as his brother touches their foreheads together in good-bye, but he still seems happy. “I never get to see him,” he says, once they're gone. “He travels, and he and Dori fight a lot when he does come home.” 

“What's his trade then?” Fíli asks, clearly seeing this as an opportunity. 

“He's a weaver, like Dori.” Ori sits down on one of the benches, and his brother sits beside him, a bit closer than he should, but Kíli's just glad he's actually making a move of some kind. It really is just sad. “But he specializes in tapestry-story. He's good with details.” He means the panel pieces that tell tales, and it's impressive. It's hard work, and requires steady hands. 

“That's like you though, and your drawings.” Fíli says, and really, if he was any more obvious Kíli would beat him over the head with his own sword. “Have you done anymore? Since last time?” 

Ori's bright expression dims a bit, and he bites his lip, opening up his book. “Just a few. Nothing like the big ones you saw in the workroom.” Kíli raises an eyebrow at his brother. When was he in Ori's workroom? He better not have been alone with him. He knows it's not proper, not if they're not courting, and they're not. 

His brother makes a face back over Ori's bowed head, telling him to keep his mouth shut, so he does, and goes back to caring for his crossbow. 

“See,” Ori says, and he's actually blushing. “I know you said it was alright, but if you don't like it, it's fine.” 

Fíli looks thrilled actually. “You drew me!” He shows Kíli the sketch, and it really does show Ori's talent. It's rough, but it's clearly Fíli, stringing his bow. Ori's even put in the detail of his braids. “It's brilliant.” 

“It looks like him.” Kíli says, and when Fíli glares, he makes a face at him. He's not the one in love with Ori, he's not going to make a fuss over him and his drawings of his brother. 

“Ignore him,” Fíli says, turning Ori's attention back to himself. “They're really good. I wish I could draw like that.” 

“You play music.” Ori shrugs, playing with the ends of his sleeves. “I can't. So it's all the same, really, when you think about it. It makes me a little sad, sometimes, when I'm drawing for the ballads and I can't sing the stories, or play them.” 

“I like your drawings.” Fíli says. “And I'll play you any ballad you want to hear, if you like.” 

Ori's blushing again. “Really? I wouldn't want to be rude, or impose,”

“No, I want to.”

Kíli's beginning to get a bit uncomfortable. He can't leave them alone, not without risking the combined wrath of his mother and Dori. They're not courting, but Fíli has intentions, so it's just not proper, and the reputation that'll suffer is Ori's. It'd be different if they were older, but Ori's just barely of age, and he and Fíli aren't that much older. Still, he _really_ doesn't think he can listen to any more of this without being sick.

“I'm going to shoot targets. Over there,” he says, springing to his feet. He'll still be within sight, and Fíli knows it, but he won't have to overhear anymore of his brother's lovesick ramblings. He loves Fíli, he does, but some things are just not to be endured. 

Things seem to go a lot better this time, at least. Well, Ori doesn't run away. Anything is an improvement over that. And if Fíli keeps being nice, maybe Dori will actually consent to him courting Ori. 

And then Kíli can leave when they're being like this, thank Mahal.

“Ori!” He jumps, and so do they, when Dori appears. Dori still makes Kíli's stomach swoop a little, not in a serious way, just in a general, appreciative way, even when he's clearly furious. Like now. “Ori, what are you doing down here?” 

“Oh, um,” Kíli hears, as he comes closer. 

“I invited him down.” Fíli says, not helpfully, if Kíli has to guess from the look on Dori's face. “He showed me some portraits he'd done, and I asked to see the rest.” 

“Really now?” Dori asks, hands on his hips. “Are you thinking of taking up sketching, Fíli?” 

“Well, no,” Fíli is taken aback by the harshness in Dori's voice, that much Kíli can see. Neither of them are used to being disliked, Fíli especially. And Dori really, _really_ doesn't like Fíli, especially not anywhere near Ori. “I just, well, he drew me. I wanted to see.”

“Yes, well, now you've seen.” Dori says. Ori is already packing his things, not looking at Fíli anymore. “Come along Ori. I need help getting supper prepared, and Nori will be back at the house soon.” 

“Yes, Dori.” Ori obeys, but he does look reluctant to do so. “Good-bye Kíli,” he says with a nod, “Fíli.” He says it much quieter, and the way he glances over his shoulder at Fíli gives Kíli hope for the sad state of things. 

Kíli waits until they're both gone before speaking, so he doesn't needlessly embarrass Fíli. “He's not going to give you permission.” However, he thinks maybe Ori really does like Fíli. He's suspected, but never been sure. Ori's shy, and he hides his feelings more than a Dwarf usually would, but the way he'd smiled just now, when Fíli liked his drawings, it looks like maybe his brother isn't as hopeless as he's been calling him. Still doesn't mean Dori will let Fíli court him, of course. 

“Ori's of age,” Fíli argues, something determined setting in his expression. “And I don't actually need Dori's permission.” 

He's not wrong, but it's not right either, and Kíli knows their mother and their uncle would get angry if they heard him say it. “If Dori won't give you permission, Mum and Uncle won't let you either.” 

His brother's got that look on his face though, the one that means he's listening, but he doesn't care. “He likes me. He said so. I asked him if I could talk to Dori, and he said he'd like it.” Kíli nearly drops his bow in surprise. Fíli's really serious. “If Dori says no, I don't care. We're already exiled princes, might as well add a forbidden romance to the ballad.” 

“Fíli...” He needs to make his brother see sense before he gets himself in trouble. And Kíli will get blamed too, they always get punished together. 

“He's my One, Kíli.” 

His protests die. 

“What, really?” He sits down beside Fíli, leaning his bow against the bench. “He is?”

His brother nods. “It's always been Ori. Since we were little. I've always known.” His leg shakes a bit as he talks, looking down at the ground and not Kíli. “I'm tired of waiting. Ori finally likes me, and I won't let him get the chance to change his mind about courting me.” 

“But you _can't_ ,” Kíli says. 

“I'm the Crown Prince of Erebor.” Fíli snaps, and Kíli blinks in surprise at the force of it. He's really serious, if he's dragging that title out. It's true, after all, but Erebor's got a dragon living in it, and here, Fíli's really just a musician, and Kíli's a jeweler. Thorin's a blacksmith, for mercy's sake. 

“And Thorin is our king. Mother outranks us too. If they tell you that you have to respect Dori's wishes,”

“And how will they find out?” Fíli demands, and Kíli wants to say he'll tell, that he'll do the right thing, but it's Fíli, and Kíli's loyal to him above all others. He won't tell, he knows that already, though he really should, even if Ori is Fíli's One. “I'm not going to use him, or anything. I just can't not be with him anymore. It hurts.”

He doesn't actually know what Fíli means, but he's heard how the Longing can ache. It makes him grateful he got lucky, like their mum. He can love who he likes, or no one at all, if he so chooses. Or he can be useful, and unite their house with someone, make children for the line of Durin. Fíli certainly won't be now. The whole idea of Ones seems unbearable, to him. He'd hate to be tied to someone else in such a way, to have all his happiness depend on one other being. He has his bow and his brother and his fiddle and his mum and his uncle and his trade. 

“I still think this is a stupid idea,” Kíli says, in his own defense. 

“I don't care anymore.” Fíli shakes his head. “Promise you won't tell, I mean it.” 

Kíli picks his bow back up, and plucks at the string. “Fíli.” He doesn't want to promise to lie to their uncle and their mum. It's wrong, even if it's Fíli asking. 

“Kíli, promise.” Fíli demands. 

“Fine.” He gives in. “I promise. But you better mean it, Fíli. Don't put me in a bad position here, all right?”

“I'm not.” Fíli promises as well. “Just do this for me.” 

“Yeah, all right.” He still doesn't feel right about it, but he agrees, because it's Fíli, and he'll do just about anything for Fíli. 

Over the weeks, he watches his brother court Ori behind Dori's back, watches them talk and Fíli show off for him, uneasy about the whole thing, but quiet, until one day, during the Solstice festival, Fíli plays a love ballad on his fiddle for his demonstration, and looks at Ori the whole time. It's dark, and everyone's drunk, but Ori blushes and Kíli sees the way Nori's eyes narrow as he looks between the two of them. 

He grabs Fíli after, hissing, “Have you gone mad?”

“I told him I'd do a song for him.” Fíli argues.

“Nori saw!” Kíli insists. “He's not stupid, you know he's worked it out after that!”

“I'm not scared of Nori.” Fíli pulls out of his grip and joins the rest of his guild, the grandmaster waving him over. 

He's not, but Kíli is when he finds himself with his back to the wall and Nori at his front, a knife pointing very, very sharply into his side. “Well, look what I found. A little princeling.” 

“Nori,” he smiles charmingly, or tries to, but Nori doesn't look charmed. Instead, he grins back, showing too many teeth. “Something I can help you with?” 

“What does your brother think he's playing at?” The grin drops, and Nori's all business. “My little brother isn't a plaything for any princes looking to keep their beds warm, are we clear? You tell him to back off, or it'll be him against this wall next, and my knife,” it digs in unpleasantly, “won't be in his side, understand?” 

“It's not like that!” Kíli tries to squirm away, but Nori's got him pinned too well. He's not as strong as Dori, but it doesn't seem to matter. 

“Then what's it like?” Nori demands. 

“He's Fíli's One!” The knife actually moves away as Nori frowns. “He's been in love with Ori since we were kids, I swear. He's not playing with him!” 

Nori releases him entirely, and the knife slips back up into some mysterious place in his clothes. “His One?” Kíli nods. “He's sure? And you're sure he's not lying?”

“I'm sure he's followed Ori around like an idiot since we met him.” Which really is just sad, even if Ori is Fíli's One. Kíli's so happy he's not involved in that nonsense. “I promise, it's not what Dori thinks.” 

“Trust me, you don't want to know what Dori thinks.” Nori waggles his braided eyebrows. Damn it all, what is with the line of Ri? They're all always so good-looking, it's just not fair. “You swear to me, Kíli, he's Fíli's One?”

“I swear,” he says, nodding. “He wouldn't lie, not to me.” 

Thank Mahal, Nori actually looks like he believes him. He tugs on his beard thoughtfully, and looks out at something, someone, in the crowd. Kíli can't tell who, through the smoke of the fires and the crowd. Maybe it's only in Nori's mind anyway. “Dori doesn't have the right to keep them apart, if they're each other's Ones.” There's something there that Nori probably doesn't want Kíli to see, so he doesn't push or even let on he notices. 

The knife comes back out, well, it's actually a different knife, and Kíli's impressed. How many does he have? Where does he keep them all? 

“You listen to me, Kíli. I won't say anything just yet. But I'll be telling Ori I know, and you'll tell your dear brother. You let him know I'll stay out of it, but if I get wind of him mistreating Ori...” The knife is precariously close to some bits Kíli is still using and enjoying. “Get the point?” 

“Yes.” He nods emphatically. 

“Good.” The knife disappears, and really, where do they go? “Glad to know we understand each other.” He claps his hand on Fíli's shoulder and grins. “Now, if you don't mind, there's a bed waiting for me, and I'd like to be in it. Unless you'd like to join me?” He doesn't mean it, but Kíli shakes his head anyway. He may make Kíli feel a bit light-headed, but he's also sort of terrifying, and Kíli doesn't like the idea of those knives near his manhood or his purse. “Suit yourself.” 

He's gone between one breath and the next, leaving Kíli alone in the crowd. 

He decides he's earned a drink or eight.

When he finally stumbles home, he's rather drunk, and happy again. As he approaches their house though, he hears the fiddle playing, sweet and low. A song he's never heard, as he boosts himself up through the window. His brother is sitting on his bed, paper laid out in front of him with notes scribbled, his fiddle on his shoulder as he concentrates. 

At first Kíli's not sure what he's doing, but then he realizes. “You're writing him a song.” 

“I am.” His brother puts the fiddle aside and crosses something out. 

“You're really serious.” 

“Yes, Kíli, we've been over this,” Fíli mutters impatiently. “You smell like a tavern, by the way.” 

He throws his shirt at his brother, but goes and washes up in the shared bathroom downstairs. It wouldn't do for their mum or their uncle to know just how much he'd drunk. Once he's back up in their room, his brother has put his fiddle away and is studying the notes he's made. 

“Nori knows,” he says, throwing himself down on his own bed. “Thanks to your little show tonight. He demonstrated just what he'll do to you on me, to be sure I got the message right.” 

Fíli at least looks sorry, so there's that. “What'd he say?”

“If you break Ori's heart, you won't be breaking any more,” he mumbles into his pillow, his head a bit muddled now. “You owe me.”

“I know.” Fíli sighs. “Thank you, for doing this. I know you don't like it.”

“I don't.” He rolls over so he can really look at Fíli. “I really don't. It's not proper, and everyone's going to be really angry when they find out.” When Fíli looks dejected, he rolls his eyes. “But you're my brother, and I love you.” Just so Fíli doesn't get too full of himself, he adds, “Even though you're an idiot.” 

Fíli throws his balled up shirt back at him in response.


	2. Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli and Ori in Bag End, before the journey begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, if one more bride wants "wildflowers in Mason jars, you know, really rustic" for her June wedding, I might just give up. Stop it with the Mason jars. I'm so tired of getting the lids off.

“Dori, it's smoky in here,” Ori says, across the room, and Fíli's ears perk up. “I think I might explore the gardens for a bit.” 

Dori glances up at Ori from his dice game with Balin, considering him. Fíli tries to keep his own eyes down at his game with Kíli, and hopes Dori doesn't look over at him. He'll get suspicious if he sees Fíli showing interest. “Alright then, but stay within sight of this house, and do not wander down into anyone's fields. I'll not have you chased by some farmer paranoid of thieves.” 

“I'm not an idiot,” Ori replies, pouting a bit. 

Fíli forces himself to look back at the pieces on the board. Ori pouting tends to make Fíli get an incredibly stupid expression on his face, according to Kíli. 

“Then off with you,” Dori allows, and turns his attention back to his game. 

Now Fíli risks looking up, and is pleased to see Ori looking at him too. Ori tilts his head at the door a little, a silent invitation for Fíli to follow. 

“Kíli,” Fíli begins, but his brother cuts him off.

“No,” he says firmly, not looking up from the white and black checkered board. 

“Please, Kíli, I haven't seen him in two months, not since we left Ered Luin,” Fíli wheedles, but Kíli shakes his head. 

“That's not going to work,” Kíli insists. “I'm not going to do it. I'm not getting in any more trouble just so you can go have it off with Ori. I thought Mum was going to have my braids on the wall.” 

“I said I was sorry!” Fíli hisses.

“My bed! Your bed was right there!” Kíli's still sore about that then. 

“I'm just asking for you to say you don't know where I am if someone asks. And that's if anyone asks!” 

Kíli looks at the board, and not Fíli, shifting uneasily, until finally, he cracks. “Oh, fine,” he says, looking around them at the rest of the assembled company. “But I'm not lying to Uncle. If Uncle asks, I'll tell.” 

It's a threat more than anything, but Fíli barely hears. He presses his temple to his brother's affectionately, Kíli shoving at him while he does so, then Fíli very carefully makes his way through the drinking and talking Dwarrows, slipping out the garden door instead of the big green one in the front. 

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness outside after the well-lit home of their burglar, but Fíli is a Dwarf, and a Dwarf's eyes like the dark better than the light anyway. The moon and stars are bright above him, illuminating things enough to navigate through Mr. Baggins' flowers and vegetables without crushing anything, until he reaches the little garden wall. He jumps it easily, landing on the solid dirt road he and Kíli had followed to the green door. 

The Shire is pretty, Fíli supposes, green and covered in flowers. Not really anything he's interested in, but he knows Ori, and Ori is probably blissful under a tree somewhere. Indeed, that's where Fíli finds him, a little ways up the road. He's underneath of one of the shorter trees, one that's more blossom than leaf for some reason Fíli neither knows nor cares about. Ori is looking up at them though, and smiling, and Fíli cares about that.

He reaches out, and grabs Ori by the waist, pulling him into Fíli's arms. He'd come up around the side, so Ori hadn't seen him, and he blinks up in surprise for a moment before his smile grows. 

“Now what is a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” Fíli teases. “There's all sorts of scary beasts out here, you know.” 

Ori laughs, but schools his face into a very solemn expression after, playing along. “Oh, are there? And just what manner of beasts might they be?” 

“Wargs and Orcs and all other fell creatures, just looking for a little Dwarf to gobble up,” Fíli says, pulling Ori in tighter against his chest. He's missed him, missed how he feels in Fíli's arms, and now that he has him, he's loathe to release him again. “S'ppose I'll have to protect you.” 

“What a generous offer,” Ori replies dryly. “Without any ulterior motives whatsoever, I'm sure.” 

Fíli plays at being wounded, and Ori can't hide how he's laughing into Fíli's shirt now, but Fíli keeps on anyway. “I am shocked at such an accusation, Master Ori. Do you not know that I am the Crown Prince of Erebor, heir to Thorin Oakenshield, and the most honourable Dwarf you shall ever meet?”

Ori shakes his head against Fíli's chest, then pulls back and cups Fíli's face in his hands. “I know that I've missed you,” he says, and uses his hold to bring Fíli's face down close enough they can kiss properly at last, and not a quickly stolen one in the pantry where no one would see. 

“I've missed you too,” Fíli says, dropping the game entirely. “Do you have any idea what it's like being stuck with Kíli, all day, every day, with no one else for him to bother? I nearly throttled him.” 

Ori frowns. “I thought you went with your uncle to see Dáin's delegation?” 

“I did,” Fíli says. “But he was delayed in one town where he knew the councilwoman, and he never caught up with us.” Fíli scowls at the unlikelihood of that. “I suspect he was just as tired of Kíli's questions as I was.” 

“You know how Kíli is when he's bored, and I think you'd be tired of anyone after two months of travel together. I wasn't sure if Dori and Nori wouldn't kill each other just on the way here,” Ori says. “Dori blames Nori for me coming, and then Nori let it slip Dwalin was coming, and Dori threw the kettle at Nori's head when he did.” 

Fíli laughs at the thought, then quiets, and enjoys holding Ori for a moment.

“Come on then,” Ori says, pulling back and tugging on Fíli's hand. “I want to enjoy sitting on something solid.” He catches Fíli's smirk, and colours, red enough Fíli can still see it in the darkness. “I'm tired of the pony, is all,” he mumbles. “Stop looking at me like that, you're awful.” 

“I really have missed you,” Fíli says, thinking of all the ways he's missed Ori as he looks Ori up and down. “But I'm tired of the pony too.” 

They spread out on the grass beneath the trees, away from the roots, and Ori curls into Fíli's chest without hesitation. In the quiet, it feels like it did back in Ered Luin, in Ori's little attic bedroom. That had been the only place they could be alone, and even that had been a matter of timing it between when Fíli had finished his training and Dori returned home from work. 

“You tore my favourite quilt, last time, you know,” Ori says, and Fíli chuckles. “And then you were gone and Dori found it when we were packing up. I couldn't think of anything.”

Now Fíli really laughs, trying to keep his voice down just in case they're in some Hobbit's orchard. “So what conclusions did he draw?” 

“I think he just chose to pretend he doesn't know,” Ori replies, and then, to Fíli's pleased surprise, Ori sits up and straddles Fíli's waist. He presses his palms into Fíli's chest to balance himself as he leans down, so they can kiss again. 

“Hello,” Fíli says, settling his hands on Ori's hips. “Now this, I've really missed this.” 

“So have I,” Ori replies, and then does something that makes Fíli groan and flip them over so Ori is on his back in the grass. “This is nice too,” he says, spreading his legs further so Fíli can fit between them easier. 

“I can't believe Dori thinks I'm the bad influence,” Fíli mutters, pushing aside Ori's braids so that he can start on Ori's neck. “And if I recall that last time, it was your fault your quilt was torn. You're the one who tackled me onto the bed.” Not that Fíli had been complaining then or now, but there are certain things Ori likes, and for some reason, Fíli in his armour fresh from training is something Ori really, really likes. “How quiet can you be?” 

Ori makes a sound that sends most of Fíli's blood south, and tightens his thighs around Fíli. “Depends, do you think you can make me loud enough we should be worried?”

It's a challenge that Fíli takes, though maybe not in the way Ori means him to, because Fíli finds the ticklish spots on Ori's sides. Ori fights him, trying to muffle his laughter in his own sleeve, but Fíli is persistent. Finally, Ori decides to fight dirty, reaching up and dragging his short nails over the nape of Fíli's neck, underneath Fíli's hair. Fíli groans appreciatively, and stops tickling Ori, balancing himself on his forearms in the grass. 

“Unfair,” he says, but he doesn't bid Ori to stop. Instead, he goes back to kissing him, using one arm to bear his weight off Ori while he uses the other to hitch one of Ori's legs further up his waist. They start to rock together after a few minutes of it, trying to stay quiet while they do. Fíli wonders how far they can get out here, especially when Ori makes a protesting noise and shoves a hand between them to get their trousers undone. “We're in the open,” Fíli reminds him, even as he rises off him to give him more room. 

“We've been in the open before,” Ori says, his voice a bit breathless. “And I've missed you so much, you know, you were gone for two months -” he kisses Fíli, opening his mouth to him, “- please, Fíli, just, please?” 

Fíli tries to think of a good reason why they shouldn't, and cannot. He's missed Ori too, and two months is a long time.

“We just have to be careful,” Fíli reminds him, looking around them quickly. “And quiet.” 

“I know,” Ori assures him. 

It really isn't the first time they've done this outside, in the open, but though Ori likes it, it always makes Fíli feel too exposed. Ori's an odd Dwarf in some ways, overly fond of trees and flowers and the open sky, while Fíli prefers stone over his head and at his sides. Still, Fíli supposes if Ori were any different, Fíli wouldn't love him so. Ori's his One, true, but Fíli thinks he might have loved Ori anyway. 

They finish, and clean up, using Ori's handkerchief, the one he usually uses to wipe ink off his fingers. When they walk back, because Fíli knows they cannot afford to be gone any longer, Ori leans into him and Fíli wraps an arm around his shoulders. He doesn't care if Dori or Nori see them, not when he can still hear Ori sighing his name into Fíli's ear. 

“Have you spoken to Dori?” Fíli asks hopefully. “Any change at all?”

Ori shakes his head. “I think he still believes what I feel for you will pass.” Ori's put his arm around Fíli's waist now, and is using his other hand to hold the one Fíli has around his shoulders. It's very easy for the two of them to fit together like this, like their bodies are pieces of a puzzle slotting in place. “He thinks we're too young, but I've told him I love you anyway.” 

“What did he say?” Fíli doesn't expect much, but he won't deny he's pleased Ori told Dori that. 

“Just that we're young, and what we think is love is not love at all, merely passing fancy. He says if I would heed him, and stay away from you, the feelings would fade, and I would see reason again.” 

Fíli thinks he's insulted. “Loving me is unreasonable?” 

“Yes, according to Dori,” Ori says, pressing tighter into Fíli's side. “I like you though. Even when you are being unreasonable.” 

“Oh, so now I'm unreasonable?” Fíli asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Only when you don't get your way,” Ori replies, unapologetic. “You and Kíli can be right terrors when you feel like it.” 

Fíli laughs, and pulls him in for a kiss. “I think calling the heir to the throne a 'right terror' is tantamount to treason, you know.” 

“Is it?” Ori is smiling as Fíli ducks down for another kiss. 

“I think the heir to the throne not noticing that his uncle and his instructor are sitting not a stone's throw away worries me more than him being unreasonable or a terror,” Thorin drawls casually from the bench he's sitting on with Dwalin beside the burglar's house. Dwalin is snickering to himself, elbowing Thorin as Thorin starts to as well. 

Ori has his face hidden in Fíli's shirt now, and Fíli knows he's embarrassed enough to not say a word to either Thorin or Dwalin for the next few days at least. He holds Ori against him, a hand between his shoulders, trying to be reassuring. 

Dwalin sits forward, his pipe in hand. “So, where have you two been? Off having a little stroll in the moonlight?” 

Ori pokes Fíli in the stomach, so Fíli rolls his eyes and says, “We're both heading in to sleep, is all.” 

“Oh yes, I bet you're both quite exhausted, aren't you?” Thorin asks in that lofty, regal way of his Fíli can't quite master, and Dwalin stops trying to repress his laughter. “Head inside then, lads, Dori is still gaming with Balin I think. They might yet come to blows, if they keep on the way they are, so you'll be unnoticed.” 

“Thank you,” Fíli says, nodding, and leads Ori in. They can hear the laughter start as soon as the door is shut, and Ori too starts to laugh. “One of these days, we are going to get caught, and it will not be embarrassing.”

“Didn't you used to say that one day we wouldn't get caught because we'd have a bedroom?” Ori asks, and Fíli thinks to tease him, but when he looks down at Ori's face, it's not a joke. Something's wrong, but what, Fíli can't quite tell. 

“Well, I suppose we'll have a whole suite once we're in Erebor,” Fíli says, smiling. It's long been a joke between them, Erebor, but now Ori tenses, and to Fíli's displeasure, pulls away from Fíli's side. “What's wrong?” 

Ori shrugs. “I should get Dori, before he hits Balin in the face. You know his temper.” 

“Come on, he'll be fine,” Fíli protests, grabbing his arm. “It's not like Balin has any chance of winning that fight anyway.” Fíli respects Balin, but Balin is no match for Dori on that playing field. “Come on, come bed down with me for the night.” 

“Fíli, I shouldn't...” He looks towards the hall, where they can hear the rest of the company laughing and singing. “I don't know, I mean, I'm sure your uncle will want to speak with you later, and...Fíli...” He trails off when Fíli ducks down and starts to kiss his neck. “You never play fair with me, Fíli.” 

“No,” Fíli admits, uncaring. “You know, our burglar has a library. Books, Ori, ones you've never seen, and you can read them to me if you want.” He has Ori's back pressed to his chest now, as he works on the soft skin below Ori's ear. “You like to do that. I like when you do that.” 

Ori still seems torn until Fíli mentions the library. “Alright then, I suppose Dori won't notice if he's been drinking with Balin. And he won't shout in front of Thorin.” 

They set up their beds in Master Baggins' little library. The strange feeling of wrongness Fíli felt a moment ago is gone as they settle down and around each other, Ori with a stack of books beside him. He chooses one of poetry neither has ever seen, written in Common, and reads aloud, nestled against Fíli. 

“Hobbits like flowers, don't they?” Fíli concludes, after Ori's read three. “'Unfold for me like a blossom in spring'. Sounds a bit dirty.” 

Ori chuckles, and says, “I think it might be, actually.” 

“What, really?” Fíli asks, excited to find something a bit interesting in the Shire. “So what's Mr. Baggins doing with it, I wonder?” He plucks the book from Ori's hands, and pushes him down. “And what exactly does it mean?” 

Fíli's not an idiot, and he knows very well what it means, as does Ori, but it's fun to make Ori whisper it in his ear. They can't have sex again, not here in Mr. Baggins' house, right under Dori and Nori's nose, but it's alright to kiss a bit and make a few other jokes about flowers and Hobbits and sex. 

“You'll have so many books, in Erebor,” Fíli whispers in Ori's ear, after he's made him cover his face with his hands, peeking out at Fíli through his fingers. “The whole library can be yours, if you like. I'm the heir, I can decide that if I so please.” 

Again, for a moment Ori is tense in his arms, and Fíli thinks to ask why, but then Ori says, “Don't be so sure the library will still be standing. Perhaps Smaug used it for kindling.” He's teasing, and that lets Fíli forget.

They sleep easily together, Fíli glad to be inside again, even if he is only under a hill, not a mountain. He's underground, and Ori is back in Fíli's arms, where he's supposed to be. 

Their wake up is perhaps less than ideal though, what with Nori kicking Fíli. He thinks it's Kíli for a minute, until he opens his eyes, and then his heart stops as he nudges Ori awake. Ori blinks at him, confused, but then he sees Nori. 

“Oh dear,” Ori says, and unhelpfully hides in Fíli's shirt. Nori bends at the waist, arms crossed and showing entirely too much teeth for his expression to be called a smile. 

“If I _ever_ catch you doing this with less layers between the two of you on this journey,” Nori says to Fíli, the sound of a promise in his voice. “I will personally weave the banners for Kíli's coronation.” It takes Fíli a moment to work out just what that threat is exactly, but once he has, he feels his stomach twist. Out of the brothers, Dori might be the louder one, but Fíli thinks he should be most afraid of Nori. “Are we clear, little princeling?” 

“As a diamond,” Fíli says, nodding. 

“Good.”

Ori waits until Nori is gone before he starts laughing against Fíli. “He's serious,” Ori manages to say through his nervous giggles. 

“Oh, thank you, that makes me feel loads better,” Fíli groans, and sits up, cracking his neck. Beside him, Ori's hair is mussed from sleep, and he's still looking a bit bleary. That feeling, the connection between them, tightens like a bowstring before the release of an arrow, and Fíli brushes the errant braids out of Ori's face with a smile. “I might risk it, to get to wake up next to you.” 

Ori snorts, and rolls away, out of the bedroll and to his feet. “Only you could be charming first thing in the morning.”

Fíli grins, and asks, “Is it working?” 

The way Ori reddens as he finds a clean shirt to change into answers that well enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	3. On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road to Erebor, Ori is forced to think on his love, and who Fíli truly is.
> 
> He loved Fíli the musician.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping. RIght. That's a thing, isn't it?

In Fíli's arms, Ori usually feels safe. Whole. Even out here, on this journey, Ori finds comfort when he is near Fíli, more than he finds even with his beloved brothers. On this night though, he crawls into Fíli's arms under the blankets, and does not feel much better than he did before. 

Fíli holds him close tonight, the chill more than either of them like, and Ori feels Fíli's nose press into his hair and inhale. “I always loved the smell of lavender, even when we were children,” he murmurs into Ori's hair, his breath warm against the edge of Ori's ear. “I never knew why, until the first time you let me kiss you.” 

“I did not exactly let you,” Ori reminds him dryly. “You wagered that you could drink more than Gimli, and you both wanted a kiss from me as your reward. You won, though I'm still rather sure you cheated.” 

“I did,” Fíli replies, sounding unashamed. “But I won't tell you how.”

Ori would smile, but his heart is heavy tonight. He does not feel like smiling, or even teasing Fíli. When he says nothing to this confession, he senses Fíli's mood turn more serious. He's grown more attuned to Ori's moods as they've grown more accustomed to one another, and he knows when Ori is troubled, as Ori knows when he is. 

“Something is weighing on you,” he says, kissing the place below Ori's ear. “Tell me, or you'll never sleep and you know it.” 

He only means to be comforting, but when it's him that is the problem, in his own way, Ori is not sure how much comfort he can give. This is not the time or place either, when Fíli is already burdened by what lies ahead of them. By what lies ahead of him.

Thorin casts a long shadow, and while Ori does not fear for his love for that, for Fíli is bright enough to stand within it and not be lost, he fears for himself. He is no prince. He is no hero from their tales. He is only a scribe, the son of a long line of artisans and weavers. The shadow cast by the kings of the past, the one Fíli will one day burn through, Ori cannot stand in it. 

Even with the Raven Crown upon his head, Ori does not doubt that Fíli will shine brighter than the sun, that he will be the envy of any diamond mined, any line of gold found. Fíli is a Dwarf, and he is the mountain and the strength of the earth, but he is the sun on the snow and the air too thin to breathe as well. 

Ori sometimes does not understand how they are linked. 

“Have you ever really thought about being king? Not just as a story, but as something...as something real?” Ori asks, not lifting his head to look at Fíli. It is chilly out here, and he is finally in a good spot.

Against him, Fíli sighs, and says, “I've tried many times. But it never seemed real until now, no matter how hard I tried to be what Thorin needs me to be. I know what I am, who I am, but...I just don't know. I suppose we'll see, if we live through this mess.” It's a big _if_ , Ori knows that. They go to fight a dragon that defeated all of Erebor. What chances do they have, really? 

“I suppose if we all die, it does not matter what a terrible king you would be, does it?” Ori jokes, and gets a pinch to his side for it. He dares sit up a bit, careful to keep the blankets around him to stop the cold from sneaking in, and kisses the tip of Fíli's nose. 

Fíli is smiling at him, and oh, sometimes it aches to look at him even now that they're together. Nori always warned him that it would feel like too much at times, that the connection could be overwhelming in its intensity. 

Honestly, Ori had not needed to be told. Just being around Fíli had made it hard to breathe sometimes, his heart and soul reaching out to Fíli's almost desperately. No matter how much Fíli teased or tormented him, it still wanted him. But when the teasing had turned to blatant flirtation, that had somehow been worse, because he had known he was not mistaken. 

Fíli was his One. 

Sometimes he had thought about what would happen if he flirted back with Fíli, if he allowed Fíli to have more than what Ori had already given. The prospect was frightening, after watching what happened to Nori and his One. It was said amongst their kind that no one would ever make a Dwarf feel more than their One, and most took that to mean that love would never be as intense as it was with their One. Ori thought that maybe he was one of the few who saw how easily it could go the other way too; no one could hurt you like your One. 

So Ori had done what he did best. He'd put his head down and pretended he knew nothing, had let himself be courted by others and ignored the way Fíli avoided his eyes. It had been easier to be with someone he didn't love, could never love, so much easier and simpler.

Now though, he looks down at Fíli and sighs. 

“You should not have cheated Gimli,” he says seriously, and slides back down to rest with his head on Fíli's shoulder. They won't sleep like this. Fíli's arm will fall asleep and that could be dangerous, but they can lay like this for a little while. It's how they would fall asleep in Ori's bed back home in Ered Luin, with Ori curled against Fíli's side, shifting to better positions in their sleep. 

Fíli chuckles. “You agreed to the prize. I did not expect you to, but once you did, I could not let him win.” He kisses the top of Ori's head, still laughing a bit. “I wanted that kiss. I knew if I kissed you...I knew if I did, you would feel it too, and you would stop denying me.” 

He's not wrong. It had only taken that one kiss, and Ori had been lost.

Fíli had claimed his prize that night, when he'd walked Ori back to the house. He'd put his hand on Ori's jaw halfway there, turned Ori's face up to his, and kissed him, over and over, more than he had won, more than Ori had owed him. But Ori had not been able to stop, had wrapped his arms around Fíli's neck and kept him close. His hands had slid into Fíli's hair, found his braids and pressed them between the pads of his own fingers, memorising them. 

He'd been lost, to Fíli and his own heart. 

“Did you think I would fall for Gimli instead?” Ori teases, wishing he could close his eyes and sleep. They both need to be well rested when the morning comes, Fíli more than Ori. Fíli takes a watch during the night after all, where Ori does not. He wishes he could, wishes he did not feel so useless, but just because he can hit any target with a slingshot does not make him a warrior. He doesn't see the things Fíli and the others see. He and Dori are little better than Bilbo in this, and it makes Ori feel like a silly child playing at being an adult. 

Fíli hums in answer to Ori's question, and starts to stroke his back. “You're trying to distract me,” he says, a mild rebuke in his voice. 

“It usually works,” Ori mutters into the musty fur on Fíli's coat. “I don't wish to speak on this, Fíli.”

The prince groans, and says, “Ori, don't be ridiculous.”

“I've asked you to leave it,” Ori warns him, narrowing his eyes up at Fíli. 

“But it's bothering you,” Fíli insists in the bullheaded way of his that aggravates Ori so much. More than that, it's insulting the way Fíli always assumes he knows what's best for Ori, that Ori should always confide in him. 

How exactly does Fíli expect Ori to explain that the problem bothering him so much is Fíli without them having a row? It's the last thing Ori wants, especially where other people can hear, people like Dori, who keeps insisting that Ori is too young to know his own heart, or Nori, who is only tentatively on their side. Ori doesn't want Nori to hear them fight, doesn't want him to think that Fíli is like...

Ori sits up, finding it hard to breathe, and starts to disentangle himself from Fíli. 

“What are you doing?” Fíli asks, frowning and grabbing at Ori. “No, Ori, don't be cross with me, I'll stop, I promise.” 

“Why do I have to threaten you for you to respect my wishes?” Ori demands, not truly wanting an answer, nor waiting for one. He gets up, pulling out of Fíli's grasp with more force than necessary, and braves the chill long enough to reach his brothers, avoiding Kíli's raised eyebrow from where the younger prince sits on watch. Once with Dori and Nori, he burrows down between them, the pair of them drawing apart to make room for him in the middle. 

This is how it always is with the three of them, his elder brothers protecting him. He takes advantage of it now, enjoying being sheltered from the things he's not yet ready to handle. 

He hears Fíli moving, and finally stand, walking towards his own brother. Ori did not expect him to come over anyway, not with Ori's elder brothers in the way. 

Sometimes Ori wishes that Fíli was not so easily put off by Dori and Nori. He knows why Fíli stays away, knows he doesn't want to start a fight, but even now when he's annoyed with Fíli, even now...

Sneaking around in Ered Luin had stopped being fun a long time ago, and started to feel like something shameful. Ori had wanted everyone to be happy, had wanted to avoid confrontation, but at the same time, some small part of him, growing increasingly louder every day, had wanted Fíli to fight for him. To not be all right with just sneaking around and playing. To want to be in the open. 

He buries his face in his pillow, frustrated with himself. First he wants Fíli to acknowledge him openly, now he doesn't know what he wants from Fíli. He wants Fíli the musician, Fíli who played him a song at the Solstice. He doesn't want Fíli, heir to Thorin Oakenshield and Crown Prince of Erebor. 

He wants _his_ Fíli back.

Nori bumps their heads together, peeking at him. “He's not a mind-reader, little gem. Whatever is bothering you, best you have it out with him now rather than later.” 

Behind Ori, Dori snores, nestling further into Ori's back, unconsciously seeking warmth now that he's asleep again. Nori and Ori both smirk at each other, Nori chuckling quietly to himself. Dori will deny he snores until the day he dies, no matter who tells him. 

Ori sighs, and shakes his head. “I don't want to argue.”

His second brother huffs. “Little love, I hate to break it to you, but that was an argument.” He frowns at Ori, and Ori hides his face away in retaliation. “Ori, just because you had a bit of a domestic doesn't mean anything. Everyone argues. Hasir threw a kettle at Dori's head once, for pity's sake.” Ori doesn't have to see Nori to know he's grinning. “Which was funny, I admit. But I don't advise it. He _is_ Thorin's heir. Though, knowing Thorin, he'd laugh, did you see them yesterday, I thought he was going to pitch Kíli and Fíli both...Ori?” 

Across the camp, Ori can hear Fíli and Kíli talking in low voices, can hear the pitch in Fíli's voice that betrays his anger. Ori has upset him then, or brought other frustrations to the surface maybe. He's been short with Thorin about something lately, so it might be that.

“I don't want this,” Ori confesses, low enough only Nori can hear. “I don't want to be Fíli's One.” 

Nori doesn't say anything for a minute, long enough Ori starts to feel anxious. At last, he asks very seriously, “Has Fíli done something to you?”

“No,” Ori replies quickly, shaking his head. “No, no, Nori, don't think that of him. He's not -” Ori stops, and hides away again. He's not supposed to know as much about that as he does, and Nori would be upset if he found out just what Ori knew. “Fíli is Thorin's heir, and I am...”

Nori chuckles into his sleeve. “You're a _'Ri_ ,” he says, mockingly aghast. “We've brought more than one royal to their knees, figuratively and literally.” Ori pinches him, his face flushed in embarrassment, and gets a pinch back, Nori smirking like a cat. “Oh, don't be shy, not after cousin Sanori caught you two at the -”

Ori buries his face in his arm, humiliated. Sanori hadn't seen much thankfully, just Ori up on the table, his legs around Fíli's waist while they kissed. Granted, that was horrible enough, but it hadn't been anything truly awful. 

He's rather sure Nori has been caught doing worse things. 

“Ori?” Nori turns serious, and Ori dares to look at him. “He is not so far above you that you cannot stand beside him. Do not ever think that.”

“It's not that I cannot.” Ori is more ashamed to admit this than he can say, but it's Nori. Nori understands everything, even when no one else will. “It is that I do not want to. I do not want to be married to the heir of Erebor. I do not want to be married to the _king_ of Erebor. I just, I know it isn't what you would do, I know I'm a 'Ri, I do, but I don't...Nori, I'm not like you and Dori. I'm not. I wish I was, but I'm not.” 

He does not know what he wants Nori to say, and quite honestly, he feels even worse now that he's said it all aloud. Fíli is his One, and in all the stories, no one ever said anything about this sort of thing. Problems were always wars and monsters, never something so small as being _afraid_. 

“Let's worry about that after we do the impossible, Ori. For now, sleep,” Nori says, and perhaps he means it as comfort, but it does nothing for Ori. It only reminds him that there is no future ahead of him he likes. 

They could be killed by the dragon. Only one of them could die. He could lose Fíli. Or Fíli might take his rightful place, and Ori will be left anyway. He cannot stand beside a prince, cannot offer words of wisdom or comfort, cannot be a politician. He will never be what Fíli needs, and truthfully, he does not really want to be.

He wants Ered Luin back, wants to be a scribe married to a musician. He wants simple. 

How can he tell Fíli the truth? How can Ori tell Fíli that it is no longer Dori or Ori's own fears keeping them apart, but Ori himself? How could he hurt Fíli in such a way? Whenever Erebor comes up now, as it almost always does, Fíli is so sure of the future, of their marriage. It makes him happy, gives him something to be secure about when everything else seems so uncertain, and Ori cannot take that away from him. 

Across the camp, he hears Kíli laugh about something, then the sounds of movement as Kíli gives the watch over to Fíli and beds down for the night. 

Ori thinks to rise, to go to Fíli and sit with him. Sometimes he does, so that Fíli is not cold or lonely. 

Tonight, he stays between his brothers until he finally falls asleep.

In the morning, they get the camp packed and start again, more and more steps leaving behind Ered Luin, bringing them all the closer to Erebor. Ori wonders about it sometimes, always has. He wonders what it looks like, if it's really as grand as Dori and Nori remember, or if that's just their memories painting it better than it was. 

Even Nori admits they were much less poor in Erebor at the very least, that their family home was small, but solidly built and in a good neighbourhood. They had been an established family, and respected for who they were. Not like in Ered Luin, where everyone forgot that the 'Ri had been artisans beyond measure, that they were cleverer than any raven. They remembered the 'Ri were lovely, and that was all. 

For people like Nori and even Dori in his more vain moments, and especially for their mother, that had been enough. Ori though, he's always wanted them to be seen as they were, no longer faded colours and threadbare pictures, but a bright new tapestry, a full story. He wants to be seen as more than someone to whistle at when he passes, someone worth listening to. 

He might fear Erebor and the dragon, but a small part of him that's very Dwarvish in its pride wants Erebor back almost as badly as the rest of them. 

The larger part of him, the part that feels so very un-Dwarvish at times, does not want to pay the price for that pride though.

When they stop for midday, the sun high, Fíli and Kíli return to the group at last, with rabbits and three birds to show for their efforts. Ori avoids Fíli's eyes, not wanting to argue again, nor really wishing to speak at all. Still, he's stung by Fíli not even making the effort to try, and he admonishes himself for that ridiculousness. 

Thorin does not order them up as soon as they're done, and Ori sees why. Balin is tired, more so than he's letting on, and so are Bifur and Dori. They're the oldest of the company, and Bifur especially should not push through exhaustion. Bofur has told them that his cousin sometimes grows confused if he does not rest enough, and if he becomes very confused, he might forget who they are. 

So it seems they will rest early today. It has been a hard walk, Ori acknowledges. The forest ground is not even, and they have had to go both uphill and downhill, over giant tree roots and cold streams. Perhaps its for the best if they give everyone a bit of extra rest today. It's not as though the Lonely Mountain is going anywhere, he supposes. 

He takes his sketchbook out and begins to draw the forest around them, making note of the trees and how tall they are, the harsh cuts in the stream beds that told Ori there must be flooding from the spring rains, and the animals he's spied. When a little red one with a black marking around its mouth lands near him, tilting its head at him so that it can see him with one eye, Ori sketches quickly, getting its form down before it moves or leaves altogether. 

It's gone by the time a bundle of wildflowers are held out over his sketchbook. 

Ori sets his sketchbook down on his lap, careful to slide his pencil into the little pocket for it so he does not lose it, and takes the bunch from Fíli's hands. They're asters mostly, like Ori could expect to be found here, with a few other things he's never seen before. 

He always brings Ori flowers. 

“Do you even know what you're apologising for?” he asks, not even sure it should be Fíli apologising. Probably not. Ori owes him more, and he knows it. 

Fíli nods. “Kíli says I was being an idiot. And that trying to do everything for you makes me overbearing, not sweet.” He smiles, but Ori keeps picking at the asters, trying not to look. “He's right, damn the little eejit. I'm sorry. You told me to drop it, and I should have respected that. I'll try not to do that anymore.” 

“You were only trying to help,” Ori says, letting the flowers rest on his sketchbook. 

Fíli waits for a long moment before his smile starts to waver. “Don't you like them? You always like flowers?” 

“It's fine. They're fine.” They're pretty, and Ori has always loved this about Fíli. Another Dwarf might bring him a pretty piece of quartz, or something like that. Fíli knows Ori well enough to bring him flowers. “The first time you gave me flowers, we were children.”

“I was already in love with you,” Fíli says with a chuckle, apparently content now. It makes Ori feel terrible, that Fíli takes him at his word like this, when Ori is lying. It's wrong, and he thinks he should be caught at it. “I'll always bring you flowers.” 

Ori thinks that might be a lie, whether Fíli means it to be or not. 

He's not opposed to the way Fíli settles beside him, wrapping an arm around him and holding Ori close to his chest. It's cool out, and besides, Ori enjoys being close to Fíli when they can manage it without prying eyes. Even now, Ori can sense a glare from Glóin and a reproving look from Dori. Balin glances over at them from where he sits with Dwalin and Thorin, and it's the way he looks at them that makes Ori turn away. 

Even some of the Company have made no secret of their disapproval, for all the reasons Ori can so easily see. Glóin thinks Ori is too young, Dori as well. Glóin and his wife have always liked Ori as Gimli's friend, liked Ori for himself even, he likes to think, and Ori knows he means well at least, just like Dori. 

Balin though, Balin does not mean well. He has been Ori's master for many years, and he's always been good to Ori, but Ori knows Balin does not believe theirs is a good match. Balin and their family have a history Ori does not like to examine too closely, too uncomfortable with acknowledging flaws in Dori. For him, Dori has always been infallible, unbreakable. He needs his eldest brother to stay that way for a little longer.

Not to mention Nori and Dwalin's history. 

Still, Balin doesn't say anything about it to anyone who would mention it to Ori. 

He turns back down to his sketchpad, and the flowers. He'll press some between the pages of his journal, he knows. He has at least one flower from every bunch Fíli's given him, and though there haven't been many, there's been enough. 

“Would you play me my song, tonight?” Ori asks, tilting his head up to Fíli. 

Fíli grins, and steals a kiss before Ori knows what he's planning. “Of course,” he says, their foreheads touching still. “I love playing that song for you.”

Ori smiles back, and goes back to absentminded sketching. 

The first time Fíli had played him that song had been at the Solstice, his eyes on Ori the whole time, Ori unable to look away no matter how much his face burned. He had been ensnared by it, the way the strong notes had been made to sound soft and tempting, the way it told of love and passion and more than Ori had ever dared to want. 

It reminds him too of that night, because that was the first time they had made love. It had not been terribly ideal, in the Musicians' Guild House, in an empty room meant for the apprentices, and despite both of them being experienced, they had both been frightened. Or at least, that's how Ori had felt, because it had not been at all like any times past. He had wanted Fíli like he had never wanted anything else, had been greedy for every new bit of bare skin he could touch, and when they had finally pressed together naked, he had almost cried. His heart had ached in his chest, that lonely part of him inside desperate to finally be with its other half. 

To be whole. 

Three times that first night, and it had still not been enough. Fíli had met him the next day amongst the trees surrounding Ered Luin, and that's where the fourth time had happened, on the ground, with the open sky above them. It had hurt Ori's back something fierce, and he'd had to scrub his hair hard that night to get all the dirt out before Dori saw, but he had not regretted it. 

“I love you,” he whispers now, and Fíli says it back, giving Ori another kiss, this one to his hair. 

It feels nice, and Ori almost forgets everything in front of them. 

Fíli hums against Ori's hair for a moment, some nonsense tune, then says, “I know you're tired. I'm glad you're here, but sometimes I wish I had begged you to stay home where you'd be safe from harm.” Ori gives him a skeptical look, and gets a laugh from Fíli. “But I know it would have done nothing but get me in trouble. Still, I worry about you.”

“Fíli, I'm not the one who needs to be worried over. You're the one carrying the swords.” Ori cannot believe Fíli is actually worried for him, that he finds the time somewhere between following Thorin around and keeping Kíli out of the worst trouble and everything else that's gone on. “You need to concentrate on what's going on, on what Thorin is trying to teach you, on -”

Fíli silences him with a kiss. It's his usual method when Ori starts to get worked up, and Ori is a bit embarrassed to admit it almost always works. 

He tries to avoid the way Fíli smirks at him, but Fíli insists on smirking so smugly, that Ori has to pinch him in the side to make him stop. “Ow!” Fíli hisses, and pinches him back, grinning. 

“That didn't hurt,” Ori insists, pouting a bit. 

“Did too,” Fíli replies, leaning down to kiss the place behind Ori's ear, where the skin is sensitive. Ori would be content to let him, if his brothers and everyone else were not a stone's throw away. He tries to keep himself quiet and push Fíli away, all while trying not to laugh, because this is ridiculous, Fíli is ridiculous, and he's going to get them in so much trouble, he is. Or teased horribly, and that might be worse. 

“Fíli...” Ori whines, trying to make him stop before they're spotted. “Stop it now, you're _awful_.”

“No, I don't believe I will,” Fíli says, entirely too full of himself. “You wounded me. Now you must apologise until I'm satisfied with it.” 

“I really will wound you if you don't stop it,” Ori warns him, trying to make himself be serious. 

“Oh? How?” 

Ori grabs him by the braids and forces Fíli to look at him. “I can ensure that you will spend the rest of this journey very lonely, no matter how many pretty flowers you bring me. Do you understand?”

Fíli frowns. “That would hurt at least one part of me, yes. Lucky for you, it plays no small part in the decision making process.”

“Nothing small about it at all,” Ori says with a grin, like they are alone, as though he can be comfortable with Fíli again. Fíli makes a mockingly shocked face at him in answer, and all but bears them down to the ground with how tightly he holds Ori to him.

“You are an awful _tease_ ,” he accuses, before releasing Ori so that they can settle comfortably again. 

Ori's pencil is in his lap, caught in the folds of his clothes thankfully, and he tries to resume sketching again. He wants to finish the bird before he switches over to something else, maybe some more practice of faces. Bilbo's face is interesting in that his the first male face Ori has ever seen up close without a beard. He's seen Men of course, and their women are not bearded, but their men are in Ori's experience. He'd like to see if Bilbo would sit for him a little tonight, see if he could get the structure of his jaw down a bit better. 

Fíli is quiet for awhile, and it really is nice. It's like Ered Luin again, like who they were.

Then Fíli says, “I would say that you will never get away with teasing me again once we have our own room, but I suspect I will never get you out of the library, will I? I'll have to hunt you down. Not that it would be the first time we've done it in a library...”

“Fíli!” Ori looks around to make sure no one has heard, even as the cold feeling from before finds its way into his heart again. He'd almost forgotten Erebor for a few moments there, but now he remembers, and he feels just like he did before. “Please, just stop.” He's not asking Fíli to stop being a flirt, not really. He's asking for Fíli to let him forget again for a little bit. 

The quiet is heavy, and he knows Fíli is looking at him, that he heard the finality in Ori's voice, the honest plea for silence. 

“All right,” Fíli says, his own voice serious again as well. 

Ori does not see the way Fíli looks down at him, the way he frowns in confusion. Rather, he knows that is how Fíli is looking at him because he knows Fíli. He does feel the way Fíli tightens his hold around Ori, the way he buries his nose in Ori's hair and just holds him for a long time. 

He wonders if Fíli knows the thoughts that go on in Ori's head even now, if that's why he's holding Ori so tightly. Or more likely, he just wants to get what he can while they have the time to be leisurely. Fíli and Kíli have to go ahead so often to scout or to hunt now, that they only see one another at night when they all lay down to sleep.

And Ori had left him alone last night. That had been a little unfair perhaps.

So that night after Fíli and Kíli have played their fiddles, Fíli playing Ori's song for him with only a small smile his way, he leads Fíli away from the camp, not far enough away they're not safe, but far enough they have what privacy they can. It's like that time before in Ered Luin, only it's the stars above them, not the blue sky with the white clouds layered across. 

No, tonight it's the stars overhead, and Ori thinks about them even as he holds Fíli close, his hands under Fíli's shirt, against the bare skin of his back. He remembers every story he ever heard about the stars and their stories, the stories of old heroes of legend, thinks about how one day Fíli's story might be told in the stars. 

Fíli is a prince of legend.

Ori is only a scribe. 

When they re-join the others and bed down for the night, he lets Fíli hold him close, allows him as close as he wants to be no matter who sees. For just tonight, he does not care, because for the first time, he's realized that when they take back Erebor, when Fíli is the prince he was supposed to be, Ori will still be a scribe, and that is what has been bothering him. His Fíli, Fíli the musician who plays him songs and laughs so much and makes Ori smile, that Fíli will be gone forever.

And Ori is not prepared for that just yet. 

“I love you,” he whispers to Fíli's sleeping form.


	4. After The Carrock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori and Nori observing Fíli and Ori, and drawing their own conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I remember sleep. It was nice.

Dori clucks his tongue when he hears the end of the hurried whispers, a sharp, “Just leave me be, Fíli, please,” from Ori before his youngest brother steps away from the prince, walking past Dori with his head down and his arms wrapped around himself. The prince in question stays where Ori's left him, scowling after Ori, and then Dori when he spies him watching Fíli. 

“This wasn't any fault of mine, before you start in on me,” he snaps at Dori, every inch Thorin's sister-son. 

“Oh, no,” Dori agrees. “The blame is equally shared between the pair of you for this whole mess. You, for being a headstrong, overly-indulged child, and Ori for being more of an idiot than I ever thought possible.” Despite what some might believe, Dori is not blind to either of his brothers' faults. Just as he knows Nori is a mad little scoundrel with sticky fingers, he knows Ori is a naïve daydreamer who believes himself an adult. 

That does not mean he will not of course take their side in everything. Because he will. 

“You believe me a child?” Fíli demands, self-righteous as always. 

“I know you to be one,” Dori replies, looking back down at the shirt he's stitching. Nori and Ori are the worst for getting tears in their clothing, and this journey has not helped. He might not be able to keep Ori from bad decisions, but he can at least keep him warm. 

Fíli starts to stomp away, but he turns on his heel, apparently not yet done with Dori. “You're the reason he gets like this. He would not be so troubled if you were not always so disapproving of me, of him choosing me -”

“If you truly believe that I am the only reason he has been so troubled, you understand nothing about him.” It would fit with what Dori knows of Fíli. He and his brother are arrogant, silly boys, and the thought that perhaps he was to blame would likely never find its way through his tangle of hair. 

“He loves me,” Fíli insists, and Dori snorts. 

“What do children know of love?” 

“I'm not a child,” Fíli argues. “Neither is he. It's time you realized that.”

Now the prince makes his grand exit, striding off to join his brother and Dwalin. When he throws himself down beside them, Dwalin looks up across the camp at Dori, scowling at him in a way that makes his face even uglier than it usually is. He has apparently chosen to add Dori's slighting of Fíli to the long list of grievances he holds against Dori. 

For the life of him, he will never understand his brothers. Dori never felt the Longing, though many a Dwarf claimed to feel it for him over the years, and wasn't that quite a line? No, he was happy to be courted by his wife, her stubbornness winning out over his own acerbic personality in the end. His brilliant Hasir had decided he was worthy of her, and she would have him as her husband before the year was out. 

She had, of course, and Dori had loved her fiercely until the end. 

Balin is speaking with Thorin now, and Dori is reminded that Hasir had not been the only one courting him at the time. So had the eldest son of Fundin, and though Dori had assumed it wasn't serious, he wounded Balin's pride something terrible when he chose Hasir, and there's been nothing but bitterness between the pair of them ever since. 

Of course Nori had to go and marry Dwalin, after Dori forbid it. Repeatedly. 

His brothers have brought him more headache and heartache than a thousand lovers might have, and this is what Dori is thinking of when he whacks Nori with a knitting needle after his brother sits beside him. 

“What was that for?” Nori demands, aghast and rubbing his arm as though it actually hurt. 

“You married Dwalin.” Dori is not buying the wounded face Nori is making as he keeps rubbing his arm, but the shift to petulance looks genuine. “Hardheaded foolish little brother-mine.”

“Why did that deserve a smack today?” Nori settles back on his elbows, stealing blankets from Dori. He makes an understanding noise when he spots Fíli with Dwalin. “Ah, I see. The Royal Brat has offended you again.” 

“Do not call him that,” Dori says, the insult a little much for his taste. He knows he's hard on Fíli, but Nori need not be too. Besides, Dori feels better if Ori views Nori as a safe brother to talk about Fíli with, rather than keeping everything all bottled up inside. When it does finally start to be too much, Ori will need someone to tell who he doesn't feel will judge him. “He might be insufferably arrogant, but he genuinely believes he's in the right when it comes to Ori.” 

“Ah, youth,” Nori muses mockingly. “Why did we allow Ori to grow up? I don't remember signing off on that. I feel as though I should have been asked.” Dori does not answer, having picked up his needle again so he can finish mending Nori's shirt. Once he's tied off the thread, he hands it back to Nori for him to fold up and put away.

Ori does not return within a time where Dori feels comfortable, and he weighs the idea of going after him. Fíli is beginning to look a bit antsy as well, looking off in the direction Ori had gone while he goes about his chores. It won't do any good if he does go after Ori, Dori knows. Fíli's presence is probably the last thing Ori needs. 

In the end, it doesn't matter, because Ori comes back on his own, at Bofur's side, the pair of them talking in a friendly enough way. Ori has been crying, that much is obvious, but it's stopped now and that's what matters. 

Nori does not seem pleased. “Oi, watch that one around Ori, would you?” 

“Who, the toymaker?” Dori asks with a raised eyebrow. “Ori is a bit young for him, isn't he?” 

“Just watch him,” Nori warns, closing his eyes and throwing an arm over them. “Going to take a rest. If you use me to hold the yarn, keep it away from my hair.” 

Dori hums his agreement as he begins darning Ori's gloves. His littlest brother is still speaking to Bofur, sitting down with the rest of the Ur clan instead of Dori and Nori. Dori doesn't mind the family for the most part, or at least he does not believe they will be inappropriate with him. Besides, Master Baggins is with them, and he's a polite little fellow. 

The princes are sitting together now, Fíli smoking his pipe while Kíli fletches arrows. Fíli seems content to let Ori be for the time being, and if Dwalin is staring at Nori a bit more than Dori likes, he's staying with Thorin and Balin where he belongs.

For once, it seems he can occupy himself with his own thoughts, and it's nice. It'd be better if he had a nice cup of tea, but that's not an option right now. The tea must be rationed for this whole journey, and the Maker knew there was none to be had in what was left of Erebor. He doesn't remember the people of Dale being ones for tea either. 

Fíli suddenly stands, and despite what appears to be protest from Kíli, he makes his way over to Ori and holds out a hand. Dori sighs, and resolves himself to more worry, as Ori takes the hand and allows Fíli to pull him to his feet. 

“Is it just your wishful thinking rubbing off on me, or does our brother looks more miserable than twitterpated as of late?” Nori asks, startling Dori. He should have known the scoundrel wasn't really sleeping. “Only it seems to me that Ori has had a hard dose of reality on this quest of ours.” 

He's not wrong, and it should be a relief, however, it troubles Dori. Ori has always been a quiet lad, true, but he's never allowed himself to be treated badly by a lover, or anyone really. Nor has he ever been the kind who stays when things have gone wrong, or at least Dori does not think he is. Hopes, more than anything else. After all, if Nori is good for nothing else, it is being a bad example, which he freely acknowledges. 

“I cannot say that Ori is less enamoured with Fíli,” Dori concedes, because he really cannot. “Rather, I think he has finally started to understand how deep he's dug himself.” 

It's not even that Dori dislikes Fíli, really, though he mostly does if he's honest. It's not because Fíli is a bad sort or anything, more a clash in their personalities Dori thinks. He wouldn't even mind Fíli properly courting Ori, really, despite Fíli's deep ties to Dwalin, except...except they're so _young_ , and they're too intense. Fíli especially has always been too passionate about Ori, to the point of Dori worrying. 

And Ori has always watched Fíli, even when he told Dori he didn't like him, that he wasn't encouraging Fíli. He'd caught Ori down on the training fields more often than he'd liked, and when hadn't Fíli walked Ori home? Dori couldn't even be angry over the latter, because at least then he knew Ori was safe coming back from his lessons or his work. 

Fíli is good-hearted, of that Dori is sure, even if he thinks the boy immature and reckless. He and Ori might even be a good pair, were it not for the way they were about one another. It's too much for two so young, especially Ori. 

Perhaps what truly frightens him is how much it reminds him of the way Nori and Dwalin were about one another. 

It only takes Dori a moment for the pieces to come together, giving him the whole picture at last, and after he's overcome his absolute shock, he thumps Nori soundly on the head. Nori darts up and away, glaring venomously at Dori, a demand for an explanation obviously on the tip of his tongue, but then Dori beats him to it by hissing, “Nori, you tell me right now that you had no idea that Fíli is Ori's One!” 

Nori opens his mouth, closes it, and then hunkers down, obviously waiting for the next blow. 

“You wait until we can discuss this, Nori,” Dori threatens, low and dangerous enough his little brother groans, throwing himself back on the ground and covering his face with his arms. “You will be washing the dishes until your hair is the colour of mine, you deceitful little pain in my arse!” 

“I just bet,” Nori grumbles, not looking at Dori. 

“Nori, you know better than to hide this sort of thing, you do, especially after what happened between you and -”

“You know, if we could just never speak on that subject again, I would be only too happy -”

“I told you not to marry him -”

“And I didn't listen, yes, we all know _you were right_ , because you always have to be right about everything, you insufferable old goat!” 

“I would not if you didn't insist on being so spectacularly wrong all the time!” Dori finishes, and gets nothing but gaping silence, followed by sulking. “I can believe such foolishness out of Ori, but you Nori, you know better. You know how strong that bond is, how overpowering. You _remember_ how it felt with Dwalin, how you couldn't see reason.” 

“Ori is not me!” Nori finds something to useful to say at last. “Yes, I botched up my marriage something terrible, I know, but Ori is not nearly as impulsive as me, nor is he as stupid, thank the Maker.” He comes closer to Dori, looking around to see if anyone is listening in on them. “Ori is not going to run off and marry Fíli in the middle of the night, all right? And no, the more I see them, the less inclined I am to think you were completely wrong in keeping them apart. But what's done is done. I vote that we let it alone and stay out of their business until after this whole mess is sorted, yes?” 

Dori does not vote that way, nor are they voting on Ori's life at all. 

However, though he does not believe Nori was completely right to allow Ori to do whatever he's allowed Ori to do with Fíli, he does not believe that he himself was completely right either. Ori is too old for them to be making decisions for him, and Dori must accept that, for better or for worse. 

He strongly suspects this might be for worse. 

He never wanted Nori or Ori to have the Longing. Their mother had, and when Dori's father had died, it had devastated her. She had never recovered, and Dori had felt lucky to not carry that burden. Nori and Ori are both like their mother though, in so many ways, both good and bad. 

“If that little princeling breaks his heart -” Nori starts, but stop when Dori shakes his head. “What?” 

“Even after everything, would you want Dwalin dead? Hurt?” If it was anyone else asking, Dori knows Nori would lie, but he does not lie to Dori, not on a regular basis at least. Now he looks away from Dori, his eyes only flicking towards Dwalin for a brief second. “They are too young. I know that much. But as long as nothing is said on either side and they are not allowed to rush any further along, I believe the best course of action is to leave them alone.”

“Are you joking?” Nori seems sceptical, and Dori does not blame him. “You're not joking, are you?”

“We cannot keep them apart on this journey, and it isn't as though they'll have much opportunity to be alone together for the duration of it. Congratulations, little brother, you have managed to actually be right about something.” He cuts Nori down with his eyes. “For once.” 

Nori seems to think on that, then shrugs. “I'll take it.” They fall to an agreeable for silence for a few beats, and then Nori dares ask, “Would you darn my gloves too? Only there's a big hole...no?” 

Dori is tempted to let Nori suffer, but then he jerks his chin towards the pile of mending he wants to finish tonight. “Go on then, add them in.” 

Nori does as he's told, for once, and Dori spends another hour or so on Ori's gloves and then Nori's, and finally socks before Ori and Fíli come back to camp. They've only been walking the perimeter, he knows, because Thorin would not let Fíli go any further than that. Whatever they've been talking about, it hasn't made Ori cry. He's smiling again, and if it's not the 'twitterpated', to use Nori's word, expression he's had for so long now, it's at least not upset any more. 

Fíli seems more at ease now, smiling down at Ori and talking about something, music, Dori thinks when they come closer.

“That's not what the song is about,” Ori is saying, as Fíli quirks an eyebrow. “The field is a metaphor, I tried to explain this to you before.” His face is alight as he speaks, and better still, Fíli _is_ listening from what Dori can tell. When the pair of them sit down close enough to the fire, and by default, Nori and Dori, he can hear them more clearly.

“A metaphor for what? Who makes a field a metaphor?” When Ori settles down fully, Fíli drops his head in Ori's lap without hesitation, Ori sliding a hand across Fíli's chest. “I don't understand how you see all this, I really don't.” 

“You just have to understand the story, what they're trying to say, to tell us,” Ori explains, as Fíli frowns up at him. 

They both look so young in the firelight, the dying rays of the sun catching on their hair and Fíli's clasps. Far too young for what either of them is facing in the coming days, and not for the first time, Dori feels bad for Fíli, and Kíli too. Much as Dori dislikes the pair of troublemakers, he does not think they deserve the harsh destiny that was thrust upon them. 

“Can you believe the cheek?” Nori asks, and gets a glare from Dori. “Perhaps I shouldn't talk.” 

“ _Perhaps_ ,” Dori grinds out. 

Nori flops back, and really does seem to intend to go to sleep this time. His watch is not until before the dawn hours, so Dori allows him to without argument. Dori usually sits up with him for it, to keep him company and help if he can, despite his lack of experience in the area. He should probably sleep soon too, if he intends to for this one. 

Besides, he doesn't think Ori will be taking shelter with them tonight. Hadn't then been a surprise too, waking to Ori between himself and Nori for the first time since they'd all met up in Bag End? He'd been worried, but then they'd made up again, and yet again now. 

At least they talk when they're angry, Dori will give them that. They've been friends, mostly, for a good part of their lives, and he thinks that helps a bit. Dwalin and Nori had both been too proud to talk about anything, and their anger and secrets had led to their ruin. Now Dori cannot even trust Dwalin to be in the same room as Nori. 

Kíli is approaching, blowing a lock of hair out of his face as he does. He crouches down beside them, his leathers creaking, and smiles in what he probably thinks is a very charming way. Honestly, Dori would put the lad out of his misery, but he thinks it might embarrass Kíli more than anything. 

“Yes?” Dori doesn't look up from his knitting, mostly because he doesn't want to have to suffer through Kíli's awkward flirtations. Honestly, the boy is young enough to be Dori's child. “What is it?”

“Thorin says we break camp early in the morning, so that we might reach this hall of Gandalf's friend before nightfall. It's another day's journey, but if we make good time and the weather holds, we should be there before dark.” He's grinning. Dori can hear it in his voice. 

“Thank you, Kíli,” he says, and when the boy doesn't immediately leave, Dori finally breaks and looks up at him. “Was there something else?” 

“Well, since Nori is sleeping, and Ori is occupied with my brother, I was wondering if you needed help with your hair tonight.” 

The boy was dropped on his head. It is the only explanation that Dori can fathom. 

“Kíli, go back to your uncle, before I wake Nori,” Dori threatens, and Kíli pales, scrambling back to his feet and over to his side of the camp. Thorin and the rest of them are quite clearly laughing at the boy, so hopefully that will teach him. 

Balin is not laughing, but instead looking over at Dori in that way of his that drives Dori mad, so Dori pointedly looks back at his knitting. He's not in the mood for Balin, Dwalin, the princes, or even their king. He wants to take his foolish brothers home and keep them safe, keep them alive and well. 

This was not the life he'd wanted for either of them, his Nori living as a nomad because of their blasted mother and that tunnel rat of an uncle. Struggling to care for little Ori, knowing if he failed because he was too lost in his own grief, Hasir would rise from her ashes just to beat him bloody. Watching the both of them grow up under the ruins of their family name, not knowing how to teach them to be proud of being a 'Ri, that they had once been known for so much more. 

Worrying that Ori was receiving unwanted attentions from an exiled prince for the only thing they were still known for. Worrying even more that the attention was not unwanted. 

It's somewhat relieving to know that Ori and Fíli are more than youthful indiscretion. That Fíli might care for Ori very much. Because Dori is not a warrior, and neither is Nori, though neither of them are wanting much in strength and skill. Fíli is though, and if Fíli loves Ori, perhaps he can protect Ori where they cannot. 

When the morning comes, Nori wakes him. Dori slept through Nori's watch, and he's sorry for it. He hates the idea of one of his brothers alone, without him to take care of them in whatever way he can. He'll just have to make sure Nori gets his rest tonight, and he's happy he finished Nori's gloves so that his hands weren't cold. 

As they get the camp packed up, most of them fighting yawns, especially Master Baggins, Dori finds the time to tell Nori that he agrees with him. It's best they leave this for now, and deal with it in Erebor, if they even make it there. They haven't had the best luck so far after all, being set upon by Orcs and Elves and Goblins, and with Thranduil's stronghold and worse, Smaug, still ahead. 

“You're really saying we should back down?” Nori seems disbelieving, and Dori does not blame him. They've both been protective, overly so even, of Ori his entire life. Backing down, to use Nori's phrasing, is not in their nature when it comes to their little brother. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Dori confesses. “In fact, I still believe what I've said the whole time. They're far too young for this sort of thing, and now is not the time to be testing their limits.” 

“So why are we backing down?” Nori asks, frowning. “I mean, I'm all right with a little affection, but they are bedding down together, and not just where we can keep an eye on them. I never approved of that. And besides that, Fíli keeps making him cry, and if he does it one more time -”

“You will do nothing,” Dori interrupts him, as reasonably as he can. “Much as I hate to say it, we cannot keep them apart right now, and there's little point in wasting our breath on it. If we live through this, we will address it then. For now, we try to respect Ori's decision.” 

“What if they decide to get married in some town we stop through or something?” 

Dori sighs the sigh of an eldest brother. “Not everyone is you, Nori, and if it does happen, we will just...” 

“Kill Fíli?” Nori suggests brightly, and gets a glare from Dori. “Spoilsport.” 

“Thorin will not excuse you from the murder of _his heir_ ,” Dori reminds him, closing the last bag with a particularly hard tug. He glances up and sees Ori straightening Fíli's braids for him, sees Fíli grab Ori's hand and press a kiss to his still bare palm. Dori needs to give him his gloves back. “We have a long walk ahead of us.” 

Dwalin shoulders past them, almost touching Nori, and Nori scowls. “A long walk that will take us to a place where I am again confined with him? Joy.” 

“You were the one who signed on knowing full well he was going,” Dori lectures, the subject sore. 

Nori's scowl deepens. “And here we go, it's all my fault -”

“It is your fault!” 

“It's always my fault in your mind!”

“It is always your fault!” 

Ahead of them, Ori looks over his shoulder, and wonders if he should interfere. Then he remembers the journey to Bilbo's home, and thinks better of it. He doesn't fancy a kettle being thrown at his head. Besides that, Dori and Nori are happiest when they're squabbling. 

And at least this way they won't notice him tucking a bit of lavender in Fíli's clothes for luck before he leaves to scout with Kíli.


	5. The Gold Sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gold drives them all mad, and reveals things they wish it wouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one comes off okay in this.

Ori draws away when Fíli makes to put another gem in his hair. “Enough, Fíli. I sound like a wind chime already.” That's not quite true, but the unfamiliar weight of beads and adornments is starting to give him a bit of a headache. 

“Earrings, then,” Fíli wheedles, producing a pair of emeralds from the chest of jewellery they had stumbled upon in the treasure room. “Or a necklace? I've always wanted to give you a locket or something. Suppose I have my choice of them now, don't I?” 

He's not wrong, and he means little by it, but still, Ori says, “You will have your choice of anything and anyone, Fíli.” 

Fíli watches him with dark eyes for far longer than Ori is comfortable with, and despite all the pretty gold and gems, more than Ori had ever believed existed in the whole world, he longs to be elsewhere. To be home, in his little attic bed, trying to read by the lamplight outside so he did not waste a candle. He misses his quilt, the one Dori had sewn him for the last winter, made of scraps of fabric Nori had brought back for them from all over. “Stop being stupid.” 

“Do not call me that,” Ori demands quietly.

“If you would stop trying to convince me to cast you off, I would not call you that.” He drops the emeralds back in the chest, and Ori wonders who they belonged to. There are numerous maker's marks on the pieces they've looked at so far, so it was no artisan's offering to the king. The chest itself is lovely, but lacks any sort of identification. 

Somewhere, he hears Glóin and Dwalin playing at war, with armour and weapons that have been found amongst the piles. They're far off from the pair of them, their voices only echoing in the cavernous room, and besides, somehow or another they have managed to tuck themselves away from anyone else, in an alcove near one of the staircases. 

“I should go see if Nori needs help,” Ori remarks, half to himself. He is tired and does not want to fight. He and his second brother had set traps yesterday on a found terrace, attempting to lure in birds with stale bread that already had mould blooming on it. 

“You could pretend to enjoy my company,” Fíli mutters darkly, throwing a piece into the great piles. “I have reclaimed my inheritance, will be the prince I was born to be, and you make any excuse you can to escape from my side.” 

Ori would deny it were it not true. He can hardly look at Fíli now without feeling that grasping tightness in his chest that's plagued him all across Middle Earth, since they left Ered Luin and he realized that what they had, what they had been, had an end in sight. 

“I'm distracted,” Ori says, attempting to sooth Fíli's wounded feelings for the time being. “After Smaug, and Dale, I only...I miss home, is all.” 

“You are with me and your brothers,” Fíli dismisses, his voice cold in a way that doesn't suit him as he looks out over the gold. “What could you possibly want in Ered Luin?” 

“Safety?” Ori attempts to joke, but Fíli sneers. Ori doesn't like the expression on his face, never has. 

“I am here,” Fíli says. “As long as you are by my side, I'll protect you.” 

He's said it before, and Ori can usually take it as it is meant, a promise of love and devotion. Now though, there's something altogether spikier to the words, and he bristles at them. 

“I do not want your protection,” he snaps, meaning to stand and do as he said, find Nori and some chore to do. Only Fíli does not allow him to, taking him by the arm and keeping him there in the gold. 

There's something in Fíli's face that Ori does not quite recognize, something similar to the constant nagging irritation he feels at his temples now, and he thinks to snap at Fíli again, until he realizes he cannot hear anyone else. They are alone in this room, and Ori does not like the way Fíli is looking at him. There's something wrong, he knows, in a halfway sort of way. 

Or maybe Fíli has finally had enough. 

“I have a _kingdom_ , and still that is not enough for you to stay with me?” Fíli's grip tightens, and it _hurts_ , to Ori's shock. Fíli has never hurt him before, except by accident once or twice when they were younger. He has never purposefully caused Ori pain. “What do I have to do, Ori? If I had slain Smaug, would that have proven my worth to you? Pity, but there is not another dragon to kill, so you must tell me some other task I might undertake.” 

He has never spoken to Ori like that either.

“Let me go,” Ori attempts to command, but it comes out like a plea. “Fíli, that hurts. Stop it.”

His hold loosens, but he does not release Ori, instead caging him in all the more with his body. “You want to complain about me hurting you? When I've never complained once about how much you hurt me?” He gives Ori a shake, and Ori is frozen against the gold, unable to even think beyond the fear closing his throat. “You turn away from me at every chance. You avoid my touch, even my company. You are my One, and you give me nothing but scraps and expect that to be enough for me?”

“Get off!” It comes from somewhere inside Ori did not know existed, as does the strength it takes to struggle. “Get off of me now!” 

“No!” Fíli barks, and Ori does not know him in this moment. He has no idea who this Dwarf is, but he's not Fíli. “You will listen to me, for once!” 

“So now you are a true prince, and I'm never allowed to have my own thoughts again?” Ori struggles more, but Fíli is stronger, and a more experienced fighter. He keeps Ori pinned with what looks like very little effort no matter what Ori does. “Stop this! You cannot force me to want you!”

His words cause something terrible to darken Fíli's features, but his voice sounds close to breaking when he asks, “Did you ever want me at all?” 

“No,” Ori lies, wanting to leave, to find somewhere to hide away from all of this. He was never meant for this life, and he does not understand why their Maker has done this to the pair of them. “Not if this is how it's going to be. I don't want this, I don't want it at all.” His face feels hot, and the pressure in his head is close to cracking his skull from the inside out it seems. He cannot take in a whole breath any more, not only from Fíli's weight, but from the constriction his fear has tightened around his chest. “Let me go, Fíli, please, just let me go.”

“Fine.” Fíli practically spits the word as he climbs off of Ori. In the light reflecting off the treasure, Fíli's hair looks almost dull for once, his eyes dark and hooded as he stands and gazes down at Ori. “Go then, if that's what you want. I don't care any more.” 

Ori scrambles to find purchase in the gold, and finds unexpected help with a hand offered. It's not Fíli, but Bofur, his face drawn in confusion. 

“What's going on here, then?” he asks, looking between them. He lingers on Ori's face, and abruptly turns back to Fíli, scowling. “What have you done? Figure you can do better than a 'Ri now, is that it? After he's followed you to a dragon's den?” 

“No,” Ori protests, because it's not how it is at all, but he needn't defend Fíli. Fíli is all to eager to cast the blame on Ori. 

“Other way around, Bofur. Ori has all the gold he could want now, and a pardoned brother. He no longer desires my company, as such.” 

It's cold and deliberately hurtful. Ori cannot believe he said it, and he stands there for a moment, staring at Fíli, before he turns and runs, up the stairs and into the dark halls, away from Fíli and his coldness, away from Bofur and his measured look. 

Why shouldn't Bofur believe there was some truth to that accusation? Bofur had not known them in Ered Luin, has only known them as they've been on the road. 

He cannot breathe for how it hurts. 

“Ori?” And now Kíli too is witnessing him in this awful moment. “What's the matter?” He reaches out to touch Ori's face, and Ori belatedly realizes he's crying. Shamefaced, he flinches from Kíli's hand, and Kíli frowns. “Can you and him go a day without quarrelling now? You're no better than a ferret and a snake in a sack, the pair of you. Go make up with him now, before he takes his temper out on us all.” 

Ori looks at the floor, tries to breathe, and says, “No. I won't be doing that. It's done.” He hardly believes the words until they're said, and he knows how true they are. 

“For how long? An hour?” Kíli scoffs, and seems to mean to steer Ori back into the treasure room. It's pretty, the shine of the gold bright and cheerful where Ori feels so low, but he suddenly wants nothing to do with any of it. “What are you doing? Come on then, don't be cross with him. Everyone's been short on temper lately, I'll not have him be any shorter.” 

“Your brother put his hands on me.”

The words float in the air like dust, and Ori suddenly longs to take them back. They have been said though, and they sit between the pair of them, a truth Ori cannot look at too hard. 

Dori warned him. He will be insufferable now.

“He wouldn't,” Kíli says sharply. “Fíli holds you above all others. He would sooner cut off his beard than harm you. You think a lie will help you hold yourself apart from him in the eyes of the Company? Do you care a whit what it will do for his reputation?” 

“I'm not lying!” Ori did not expect Kíli to take his side, but he did not expect him to be so nasty. They have been friends, haven't they? Doesn't Ori deserve at least a little benefit of the doubt? “Fíli is not himself, either!” 

And still, he defends him. 

“You're the one who has been turning him away,” Kíli accuses. “He's your One! You're supposed to love him!” 

“Not to the point of stupidity!” Ori has never shouted at Kíli, not like this. He feels hot and disoriented, his head hurting again. Perhaps he could find his own corner in the bright room, away from all the others, and curl up somewhere to think on his own. “Besides, what would you know of loyalty to your brother? You gave me flowers too, don't think I've forgotten!”

And there is a great secret they have never spoken of, the two of them, that Kíli had once made some overtures towards Ori, a long time ago. Years and years ago, when Fíli was gone from Ered Luin, off with Thorin on some task. It had not been meant in the same way Fíli's were, merely a friend asking for fun. And Fíli had not been so obvious then, only making jokes that bordered on inappropriate, lingering around where he shouldn't be, possessive where he had no right.

Ori had rejected him, and Kíli had not taken it badly. It wasn't in his nature to. 

But they've neither said a word of it to Fíli. 

“You did what?”

Kíli looks ashamed, and Ori turns to see Fíli, the treasure a backdrop that makes him look all the more imposing. 

“Fíli...” Ori never meant for him to hear, he never meant for him to know, and if he ever did, it would have been years from now, when everything was quieter and it would be funny. Not now, when everyone's tempers are strained, and Fíli is....not Fíli. “I did not...”

“You knew how I felt for him,” Fíli says to Kíli, and Ori wonders if he should flee. “You _knew_ , and you still couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you?” 

“It was before I knew how it was!” Kíli defends himself, holding his hands out, but not in a plea. In anger. “Do you really think I went all that time without noticing him? I just wanted to tumble him, I never wanted what you want. He's a damn 'Ri, who doesn't want a night with them?” 

It hurts, cuts Ori to the bone, because Kíli was his _friend _. “Just a 'Ri, but I still had more options than you ever would have! Do you know what people say about you, Kíli? They say you're a bastard child, not your father's -!”__

__Kíli strikes him, and that hurts too. Ori tastes blood in his mouth, and he's afraid of just where this is all going. He does not want to fight, not really. He wants to be left alone by everyone, but especially by the princes. One he thought a friend, one he thought beloved, and they've both hurt him today, and he's hurt them in turn._ _

__They all stand silent now, too much said and too much done._ _

__Except Kíli's anger drains from his face, as he looks at Ori, his hand lowering. “Ori, I'm sorry,” he says, sounding genuinely remorseful. “Ori, I'm so sorry. You know I didn't mean that, I'm just...”_ _

__Ori has nothing to say, so he doesn't say anything, turning and almost running from them both._ _

__He doesn't know where he's going, Erebor too big and confusing and empty, so very empty, full of nothing but treasure and ghosts and blood, and Ori wants to go home. He wants to go home so badly. He hates this place, hates who they are here, and damn it all, his head hurts so much and he's hungry._ _

__This is how he finds the Library at last, after so long looking._ _

__It's big. It's the most books Ori has ever seen in his whole life combined, with a ceiling stretching up so high he cannot see the tops, the stone glowing faintly around him to limn the crumbling tapestries and the spines of the books on the shelves._ _

__He steps forward, afraid of disturbing something beyond dust, and pulls tinder from his pocket so he can light one of the lamps sitting on what must be the Master's desk. The oil is still there, after all this time, because Dwarf things are built to last. The additional light shows Ori the state the Library is in, and it is far better than he expected. The books still stand, and further back, he knows there are vaults where the most precious items are stored._ _

__He nearly trips over a skeleton, and he gasps, afraid again. The Dwarf it belonged to is long gone though, nothing but bones and scraps of clothing. Ori finds their beads on the ground, but he doesn't recognize the marks, so he gently places them in the skeleton's hand for safekeeping until someone can. It is not the last one he finds in the place either, but it is the only one alone. The others are gathered in the back, by the vaults Ori was looking for._ _

__They had sealed the vaults, he knows. They had gathered the most precious items, and sealed them away for when the Dwarves might reclaim Erebor, all while knowing they had trapped themselves. Ori looks amongst them carefully, attempting to find notes or messages, but there's nothing. They likely left them in the vault then._ _

__One has a knife near its hand. This one had perhaps killed the others, so they did not face dying of thirst, before taking its own life. It reclines against another, their backs to the wall, and Ori is surprised to find something he recognizes on the one the doer is huddled against. “You were a 'Ri,” he whispers, as loud as a shout in the long empty place._ _

__They're faded with age, but the remaining hair on the skeleton has knotted ribbons in its braids, a familiar pattern. Dori wears it sometimes. Their mother had worn it. Perhaps this was a sibling of hers, an aunt or uncle to Ori, or maybe a cousin. Maybe this Dwarf leaning against him had been a lover, or a friend._ _

__“Hello,” Ori says, quietly for fear his very breath will damage them further. “We came back, see? The 'Ri came back.”_ _

__His head aches a bit less now, as he sits among the books and the long-dead._ _

__“We are perhaps not much,” he admits. “But we came back.”_ _

__After the terrible day passes, Ori takes to spending all his time in the Library, not only to avoid Fíli and Kíli after awhile. Thorin too treats him with disdain, which Ori supposes he deserves, and Dwalin is surlier than ever towards their family. Dori and Nori are unfortunately little better. All have drawn their own conclusions about what transpired between the three of them, and each story is more unkind than the last, not helped by Bofur's version of events._ _

__Bofur becomes a problem in himself. He has always leered at Dori, but there are few who do not, so Ori has never paid it any heed. It isn't as though Bofur could do anything. Dori could rend his head from his shoulders if he did not like his attentions. Now Bofur looks at Ori like how he looked at Dori, and Ori does not like it. He does not like any of the Company right now, he finds, all of them nasty and moody. Even Bilbo is no friend to him right now, sneaking about and avoiding them all._ _

__Glóin gets into a fistfight with Nori, and does not come out the winner, which Ori could have told him. Nori almost cuts off Glóin's beard before Balin interferes, as is his right, which makes everything that much worse. Dori hates Balin, and he hates when Balin shows any claim on Nori. By the end of the night, Dori and Nori have slunk off to another part of the safe areas, and Ori does not join them, though he still seeks them out at times._ _

__He starts to sleep in the Library._ _

__Finally, everything comes to its head when Bilbo reveals a treachery Ori had not believed of him, and Thorin almost murders him. Ori looks around, and feels afraid. He's going to die, he realizes. They're all going to die. The Orcs are coming, and they will slaughter them, and again, Erebor will be lost._ _

__The Library is his refuge after, but as he sits among the shelves weeping, he's not alone._ _

__Fíli seems almost gaunt, though he's lost little weight. The dim light doesn't help, nor does the way he looms over Ori._ _

__“You would rather keep company with even the dead,” Fíli says, as Ori hides his face away._ _

__“What do you want from me?” Ori asks, not sure where they even stand as allies now. How has this happened? How has he come to fear Fíli, the person who once claimed to love him more than anyone, the one he had supposedly loved in return?_ _

__The prince crouches down beside Ori, silent for too long. The way he looks at Ori isn't how he looked at him before. Ori doesn't think Fíli will ever look at him like that again. Everything they had is ruined, and Ori is not sure why he expected better. His brothers have failed in love, and he should never have expected better of his own life._ _

__“I want you to love me,” Fíli says, and he touches Ori, pushing his braids back behind his ear. Ori has already removed every single gem and trinket Fíli had put in it, leaving them in the treasure room. “Why won't you just do that? Everything would be so much easier. We never would have fought like that.”_ _

__Ori does not look at him. “We had problems before this.”_ _

__“What problems?” Fíli has a touch of desperation to his voice. “We were happy. We've been happy.”_ _

__“I've been lying to you,” Ori confesses, and still does not look at him. “And you're right, I have been avoiding your company for a long time now.”_ _

__Fíli sits, and Ori somehow resists the urge to move away. “I wanted to hurt you in the treasure room. I was trying to hurt you.” He exhales noisily. “I've never felt that way before, especially not about you. And when I heard what you and Kíli were saying, I wanting to kill him.”_ _

__Ori's head snaps up, staring at Fíli in shock. Fíli and Kíli might have fought as much as any siblings over the years, but they're still brothers. “What?” he asks._ _

__“I've felt possessive of you many times, but never like that. I don't understand it.” He swallows, his eyes on the skeletons around them. “Bofur watches you now, because he thinks we're done. And last night, I thought about killing him. I'm not joking, Ori, or exaggerating. I was going to kill him.”_ _

__“Thorin threatened Bilbo's life,” Ori says, as slowly the pieces start to fall into place. “He loves Bilbo. You know he does. And you hurt me. You left bruises.”_ _

__“I never -”_ _

__“I know,” Ori cuts him off. “And that's what's wrong, don't you see? We're not ourselves. I snapped at Kíli, I brought up something we agreed to never mention, I called him...oh, you heard. You did. You heard what I said. I would never have said that, not ever, not if I lived three hundred years, but I did.”_ _

__“Ori...”_ _

__“It's as your great-grandfather was,” Ori says, looking at the skeletons too, at his family member, nothing but bones and hair now. “As your grandfather was. We're mad, all of us.”_ _

__“I don't feel mad,” Fíli protests._ _

__“You wanted to hurt Kíli!” Ori reminds him, none-too-gently. “You wanted to hurt me, and you've never done that, not purposefully. If you still feel anything for me, you will listen to me. We're mad, the treasure has infected us. We'll become like they were. We'll die. We'll tear each other apart.”_ _

__“No, no, my Ori, my One, I would never -” He grabs Ori, or perhaps he's simply trying to touch Ori like he used to. Ori remains stiff though, because he cannot melt into the touch any more._ _

__“You left bruises,” he says quietly, and pulls out of Fíli's hold. They had been there, green and purple and yellow, on his upper arms where Fíli had grabbed him, on his back where Fíli had pushed him into the hard gold. “Fíli. You would never have bruised me before.”_ _

__“Of course not,” Fíli says, just as quietly. “Never. _Never_.” _ _

__“It's the gold,” Ori whispers. “We're going to perish, just as he did.”_ _

__“No, we won't,” Fíli promises. “We won't, my heart.”_ _

__Ori listens to him, and attempts to take comfort in the words._ _

__The Orcs fall upon Erebor within the next day, and Ori finds that there is no glory in battle, in war. It is blood and fear and horror, survival and overwhelming cowardice. The Orcs die as any other creature might, and Ori cries for it, sorry for causing pain to any creature. He cries in battle, wordless noises that tear their way out of his throat without permission, until he has nothing else within._ _

__The Eagles fly overhead, the Elves ride to their side again, and Ori wishes he were brave enough to run away._ _

__Slowly, it ends._ _

__The Orcs fall back, one by one. There are more on the side of good than dark by him. Less screams fill the ear, less blood is shed, and after too long, Ori can let his arms rest. They burn with the effort, and he longs to fall down to his knees and never move again._ _

__If there is a blessing to be found, it is that the madness is gone from his mind and all the rest of them, the cobwebs of it burned out by the fire of war. Bofur pays more attention to his poor cousin, Bifur possibly dying on his bed, and his brother, Bombur closer still to the Door. Dori and Nori give no thought towards Dwalin or Balin, and instead to one another, as they worry over Nori's leg and Dori's eyes. Dwalin has left Nori be for once, too intent on his injured elder brother, and Ori is grateful._ _

__He is not grateful for Thorin's grievous injuries, for how Kíli sleeps, for how Fíli still straddles the line between dreaming and waking. Ori waits by his side, and feels like a fool for it. He no longer sees the gold in Fíli's hair, only the light, and he does not see any more darkness in his face, but he still worries and counts himself an idiot. Fíli left bruises on his skin, and Ori had rejected him completely, and yet still, he sits at Fíli's bedside._ _

__He might never hear in the damaged ear again. Ori does not allow the healer to tell Fíli, but instead does it himself._ _

__“It might return,” he says, determined to be honest now. “But it will never be what it was, even if it does return.”_ _

__To say such a thing to a musician is awful, and he is unsurprised when Fíli weeps._ _

__“I have lost all, haven't I?” he asks, accepting Ori's hand in his, “My uncle might die, my brother sleeps, I have driven you away, and I have lost half my hearing. What has Mahal left me with?”_ _

__“A kingdom?” Ori offers._ _

__“Dragon fire take it,” Fíli swears, and that is what makes Ori crawl into the camp bed with him, though they hardly both fit comfortably. Still, Fíli clutches him tight, crying into Ori's hair._ _

__They stay entwined even after Fíli stops, and when twilight falls and they are alone, the healers having excused themselves when they saw the two of them together, Ori says, “I tried to resist you. That first time you kissed me though, I was lost. All I could think about was you. I'll never want another, even if you go before me. It'll always be you.”_ _

__“Will it?”_ _

__“Yes,” Ori says, and hides his face in Fíli's chest._ _


	6. Flashback: The Drinking Challenge/First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fíli did not exactly come by his first kiss with Ori honestly. Really though, all's fair in love and war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this scene floating around in my head and thought it was cute and all teenagers-being-moody-teenagers so I decided to share it.

“Clearly,” Gimli crows, waving his empty tankard around, “I am the winner!”

Fíli might have to concede to that, though it pains him. “Your stomach is cast-iron, little cousin,” he says, setting his own tankard down. A smoke would not be remiss, but when he checks his pouch, it's unfortunately and somewhat suspiciously empty. He'll thrash Kíli for it later. 

“And who are you to call me little, when I am almost as tall as you, and twice as broad besides?” Gimli strokes his beard, already a little longer than Fíli's. 

“Your elder,” Fíli replies. 

“But not my better!” Gimli happily roars. 

“You know he doesn't like it when you call him that,” Ori says, from his seat on Fíli's left. He's done his braids with ribbons today, and Fíli knows if it weren't for him and Gimli, he'd hardly be safe in this hole-in-the-wall. 

Gimli smiles, and leans over the table to get closer to Ori. “Pretty gem, defence from your lips for my sake stirs my heart as nothing else might.” 

Fíli might murder him. 

“And if Dori said it?” Ori asks shrewdly, playing with a loose thread on his sleeve. 

“You doubt me?” Gimli feigns hurt, but his laughter ruins it. “I only have eyes for you, Ori,” he croons, and Ori actually colours in the dim light. “Come on then, how about a dance with me?” 

“Ori doesn't dance,” Fíli says, just a touch gleefully. 

“Maybe not with you,” Gimli replies smartly. “But he danced with me last week, didn't you Ori? Went around three times with me.” Thankfully, he seems to notice his empty tankard, and says, “I'll get us another, won't I?” 

Once he's gone, Ori avoids Fíli's eyes as he says to the scratched old table, “It was only a dance.”

“It was _three_ , apparently,” Fíli corrects, an ugly feeling in his chest that makes his grip on his tankard white-knuckled. 

“He's my friend, and you have no right to be jealous,” Ori hisses back, pulling at his sleeves more forcibly. “We're not involved.” 

Fíli shakes his head and finishes his ale, pushing the tankard to the other side of the table so that one of the servers will pick it up. Ori is still working on his first, not nearly the sort of drinker Gimli and Fíli are. That's less due to want though, and more to need. “I'll buy your next one,” he says, the look on Ori's face twisting his gut up into knots. 

“I don't need you to take care of me, Fíli,” Ori says, with no small amount of pride in his voice. 

“That doesn't mean I won't,” Fíli replies, eyeing the ribbons again. They're new. Pretty. “That smith give you those?”

“If I'd known you were going to be such a goat-minded arsehole tonight, I wouldn't have come out at all,” Ori says, standing as though he means to leave. “Why do you have to be like this all the time? Why can't you just let it be?” 

“You know why.” Fíli takes him by the arm and pulls him back down into his seat. Not hard, not strong enough Ori couldn't break the grip if he wanted. Ori sits down again though, and Fíli releases him, the exact knowledge of the shape and strength of Ori's forearm echoing from his palm through the rest of him. “Who else do you dance with, Ori?” 

“That's it, Fíli, you stop it now, or I leave.” He means it. Fíli can see it in his face.

“What are you so frightened of? What have I done that you won't even give me a chance?”

“I'm not afraid! Least of all of you, Fíli!” Ori is furious, his cheeks turning red as he glares at Fíli. “You think you have to rescue me, take care of me. Well you don't, because I don't want you to. I'm not interested in you at all.” 

“That's a lie,” Fíli accuses.

“Prove it,” Ori replies.

The conversation ends before anything more is said, because Gimli rejoins them, with three more tankards full of ale. “Let's try again, cousin,” he offers, holding his tankard up in challenge, oblivious to the tension between the pair. “You've beaten me before, let's see if you might again.”

Even Gimli is irritating Fíli. “Little cousin, if I take you home to your mother dead drunk, she'll box my ears.”

“Oh, that sounds a bit like cowardice, doesn't it?” Gimli teases, poking at Fíli. “Aye, let's say we sweeten the deal. Have ourselves a prize, yeah?” 

“And what could you offer me?” Fíli asks, none-to-kindly, and gets a sharp look from Ori for it. He shouldn't be cruel to Gimli, and he knows that, truly. But he can't forgive the idea of Gimli's hands on Ori's waist, Gimli's hand in Ori's. “I have enough coin, and you don't have enough to spare.”

He feels Ori's glare without seeing it. 

“True, that,” Gimli concedes, giving Fíli a measuring look. “Something that doesn't clink then. Something we couldn't buy.” He eyes Ori, and Fíli swallows the urge to hit him. “How about a kiss, Ori? For the winner?”

“A kiss from me?” Ori asks, surprised. 

“As though I'd want one from this prat,” Gimli says, hitching his chin at Fíli. “What do you say?”

Fíli scoffs derisively, about to tell Gimli not to hold his breath, when Ori says, “Fine. I'll agree to that.” Ori will not meet his eyes when Fíli looks at him, but he does continue, saying, “Though it won't be much of a contest. Gimli always wins against you and Kíli.” 

“He does.” Fíli cannot pretend that's not true, but then, Fíli's never had a reason to win before. “All right, little cousin, you have a wager. And better yet, if you best me, I'll stop calling you that.” 

“You might have to actually use my name!” Gimli exclaims, laughing as Fíli rises to put in the order. 

When he gets to the bar though, he slides more coin than necessary to buy as many rounds as they need, and gets a raised eyebrow from the bartender, a fellow musician named Borin. “What's this then? Even you two cannot drink this much, and the 'Ri won't drink.” 

“I need to win a wager,” Fíli explains, keeping his voice down. “Cut mine with water, with just enough ale it has colour.” 

“Oi, that's deceitful, that is, and it'll taste awful too,” Borin replies, eyeing the coins with a smirk. “What are you and Gimli wagering now? Going to win his braids or something?” 

“A kiss from the 'Ri,” Fíli confides, and Borin chuckles. “You see my need then?” 

“Aye, I do,” Borin says, still laughing. “No worries, friend. Guild loyalty and all.” He takes the coins with a wink, and Fíli returns to the table, assuring Gimli they're all paid up.

By the end of the night, he and Ori are helping Gimli home, his little cousin walking with an arm around Fíli's waist, the pair of them singing loudly enough that Ori has his hood pulled over his face in embarrassment. Glóin takes him off of them with a groan, and once the door is shut, Fíli drops the façade all together. 

They're three streets away before Ori accusingly says, “You're sober.” 

“Fancy that, I think I am,” Fíli teases, but Ori is still cross with him it seems, because he's frowning. 

“You cheated.” When Fíli attempts to touch him, trying to see just how disapproving Ori really is, Ori shies away, his arms wrapped around himself. “That wasn't fair to Gimli, or me. It was deceitful.” 

“Did you want to kiss Gimli?” Fíli demands, careful to keep his voice low.

“No, I didn't, but you still shouldn't have...” He trails off and keeps walking, Fíli easily keeping pace with him. He's got longer legs than Ori, and he's surer-footed besides. Ori always looks at the ground when he walks, and now is no exception. “Gimli is only playing. He doesn't mean anything by his flirting. I'm not the sort he favours, really.” 

“You never dance with me.” It's a sore point for him, and he won't let it go. He wants to hear Ori's reasoning, wants to know why he cannot seem to win any favour. For every two steps he gains with Ori, he feels as though he slides back one again. “You hardly seem to want my company at all any more. I don't understand, I thought we were friends.” 

“You're the one who started pushing for more,” Ori half-mumbles. “I don't know how many ways I can tell you I'm not interested before you get the point hammered through your thick skull, but I'm not, Fíli, I'm not at all -”

“You're lying, and you're shit at it, so I suggest you try something a bit closer to the truth.” He'll not be lied to, not about this. Not when he sees how Ori looks at him when they're alone, not when Ori used to sit shoulder to shoulder with him in the woods as Ori sketched and Fíli made traps, not when he feels this clawing longing in his chest that tells him exactly where Ori fits beside Fíli. “Ori, I know I'm not alone in this, so don't try and lie to me. I want the truth.” 

“Well you can't have it!” Ori snaps, turning to face him on the deserted street. The hour is late, and it's cold, even in the mountain. Anyone with sense is safely tucked up in bed by now, but apparently that doesn't include either of them. “Just because you're Thorin's heir doesn't mean you can have everything you want when you want it. That's not how things work.” 

Fíli would grab him, pull him closer, but Ori's tense and unhappy. He doesn't want Fíli's touch right now, so Fíli keeps what little distance there is between them there for now. “Ori, what do I have to do to prove I'm serious? That I'm not playing, not like everyone else, not like your smith? Why are you so set on ignoring me, ignoring this?” 

What _this_ is goes unsaid. Neither of them need to say it. 

Ori has his arms wrapped around himself still, and he's probably cold. He's not as well-dressed as Fíli. 

This conversation is rapidly spinning into pointless, and Fíli doesn't like the idea of keeping Ori out in the cold when he could be warm and comfortable indoors. “I'll get you home safe,” he says, and keeps walking. For a moment, Ori doesn't move, but then he follows Fíli, and they're silent for a good while. Maybe they've said too much now, and it's better to let it settle. 

When they're just past halfway there though, Ori says, “You're right. I'm frightened.” 

“Of me?” Fíli doesn't think he's ever done something that would frighten Ori, but now his mind rushes through a thousand memories, searching for a time he might have done it, a sign he missed that said Ori was not just cross or tired of him, but scared. “When did I frighten you? Have I hurt you?” They have trained together before, and Fíli is a better, more experienced opponent, but he's always been careful, or thought he was. “When did I do it?”

“What? No, Fíli, you great idiot, I don't mean I'm frightened of _you_. You thrashed that clod Soren and his friends for me, for Mahal's sake. You hit that armourer because of what he said to me. You climbed up half the mountain to get me _rosemary_ , you bring us meat, you dived into the river to get my scarf back, I mean, Fíli, you just....you just make it very difficult to say no to you, you know.” Fíli had forgotten about that idiot Soren and his stupid mates, but he supposes that's because Ori didn't speak to him for nigh on a month after. He hadn't liked Fíli stepping in for him, and he hadn't liked how Fíli had spoken to him after. 

Fíli admits he had mucked that up spectacularly. 

“So why do you keep saying no?” He's almost afraid of the answer. 

“Because you could hurt me,” Ori says into his scarf, sounding ashamed. 

“Ori, I would never hurt you, not like that.” 

Ori turns to him, shaking his head. “Don't you see? People make those sorts of promises to one another all the time, and even when they mean them, they still hurt each other! That's how people are, we hurt each other, and I just, I _can't_ , I can't do it Fíli, I'm not...I'm not...”

“You're not what? Strong enough?” Fíli does touch him now, taking him by the hand and entwining their fingers. They're both calloused, for different reasons. Fíli is a musician, and a warrior. Ori is a scribe, and an artist. Both strong hands. “Ori, you are not weak. The only reason I protect you as I do is because I want to, not because you need it. You're my friend, before you're anything else, and I would protect you even if we weren't connected as we are.” 

For once, it seems he's managing to say the right thing with Ori, a rare occasion. It never fails that he seems to make a mess of their once easy conversations here lately. Just last week, Ori had run from him again, and Fíli had been left wondering what he was doing wrong. Of course, then Kíli had laughed, the little ingrate, and Fíli had to hurt him. Little brothers and their big mouths. 

Ori watches their fingers, how easily they fit against one another, and there's something very sad in his face. “I've been in love with you for so long, Fíli. Before I can even remember.” It's everything Fíli ever wanted to hear, and he almost goes to touch their heads together, but then Ori says, “I've never been more afraid of a feeling in my whole life.” 

“Why? This is how it's supposed to be, we're supposed to be together,” Fíli insists. “We were made together, Ori. We're part of one another. You know that.” 

“That doesn't mean we'd be happy,” Ori protests, though he doesn't draw away. “You have such a temper, and so do I, and we're bound to turn hateful, we are, I just know it -”

“We have argued often,” Fíli reminds him. “And we have never turned hateful before. I have a temper, and I come by it honestly, but when have I ever turned it on you? Or Kíli, or Gimli, for that matter? And when have you ever backed down from it? You always tell me when I'm making an idiot out of myself. _Always_ , even when no one else will.”

And he knows why. He knows his temper is countered by Ori's good nature, his boisterousness balanced by Ori's generally calm manner, his arrogance by Ori's humility. Ori brings Fíli down from the pedestal he lets himself be placed on, reminds him that he's flesh and bone and blood, not stone, that he still can't tie complicated knots or work out anything more complicated than a four-strand braid, that he gets confused by metaphors and he still struggles to read Common at times. Ori never puts up with him when he's being difficult, and had once dumped a bucket of icy cold water on his head when he had been unfairly nasty towards Kíli. 

He brings Ori up, in turn. Encourages him to speak out, to say what he means when everyone is too loud, when Ori thinks his voice isn't wanted. He's the one who tells Ori how brilliant an artist he's become, not only through hard work, but talent. That Ori is clever where other people aren't, that he might still hardly know the right end of a sword, but he can cook, and build a fire, and skin rabbits faster than anyone. That he can read four different kinds of writing, and knows a fair more amount of Elvish than he lets on. That he can do maths Dwarrows twice his age wouldn't know the right way of. That people _like_ him, when Fíli sets their teeth on edge. That he's understanding and a good listener. 

Mahal split them well, knowing exactly what Fíli would need to be king, and what parts would make Ori a good Dwarf to stand at his back and keep their people well. 

“You can be such an idiot,” Ori says distantly. “You're so clever, you are, and then you act as though you haven't a lick of sense, and it's so frustrating to watch.” 

“Then stop watching, and start helping,” Fíli urges, coming so close that the clouds their breath makes mingle together. “Or just let me kiss you. I won one.” 

“You cheated,” Ori replies weakly, but he lets Fíli tip his jaw up. “You _cheated_ , you're so awful sometimes.” Despite that, he doesn't pull away when Fíli touches their foreheads together. 

“May I kiss you?” He wants to know it's all right, needs to hear it. He needs to know his touch is welcome. 

“Yes,” Ori answers, and Fíli claims his prize.

He has kissed before. He has kissed plenty before. No kiss has ever been like this one though, because this is _Ori_ , this is Ori in his arms, Ori's fingers finding their way through his hair, pressing on his braids. These are Ori's arms falling around Fíli's neck now. This is Ori, opening his mouth under Fíli's, encouraging more kisses, more than Fíli won. 

“I love you,” Fíli says, in the space between one kiss and the next, his eyes closed. “I love you so much, you don't even know.” 

“That's the trouble, isn't it? I do.” And Ori pulls him back in, kisses him again, and all Fíli wants is this, this honesty and humour and closeness. This is all he's ever needed from Ori. “I have to go home.”

“No you don't,” Fíli protests. “You're supposed to be here, in my arms. This is where you belong.” And that's not flirting, that's not flattery, that's the truth. That's the whole truth, because for the first time in as long as Fíli has been alive, he feels _whole_. This is how it's supposed to be. This is right. “You belong by my side, don't you see? And that's where I belong, with you.” 

“Dori won't see it that way, if he comes home and I'm not there,” Ori protests, though he doesn't leave Fíli's embrace. “He doesn't want me with you any more. He thinks awful things about you.”

“You think awful things about me,” Fíli reminds him, taking another offered kiss. 

“Not like he does,” Ori mutters, but does not elaborate. “Will you kiss me again?” 

“Always,” Fíli promises, pressing a kiss against Ori's brow. “As long as you want me to, I'll kiss you. Protect you. Love you. Sod Dori.” 

For some reason, Ori is rapidly growing stiff in Fíli's hold, and before Fíli can stop him, he moves out of Fíli's hold. He's looking down, almost shaking. “It's funny, but I've heard someone say that before, once. A long time ago. To Dori's face even.” 

“Who?” Fíli cannot imagine being brave enough to shout at Dori, and Dori not knocking their heads from their shoulders. “Who would be so stupid?” 

There's something of a smile on Ori's face as he answers, “There's only two people in the world allowed to talk to Dori like that. I'm one, and the stupid one is the other. Maybe you'll be able to meet him one day.” He sniffs, and says, “You better get me home, before Dori beats us there. He's at the guild house with...um...I'd rather not say.”

“Dori have a sweetheart then?” He never has before, in Fíli's experience. Ori shakes his head, and the street lamps catch on the colour in his hair, reminding Fíli of the ribbons. “Hey,” he says, daring to reach out and press one of Ori's braids between his fingers. “Would you take these out of your hair, at the very least?”

Ori looks at the braid in question out of the corner of his eye, and Fíli wants very badly to kiss him again, but he doesn't think it's wanted right now. “I'll stop by his smithy in the morning. He won't mind, he fancies the candy maker on the corner anyway.” He sighs, and though he does not take Fíli's arm, their arms brush together often now. “It's no fun, courting someone who's clearly in love with someone else. He would have called it off soon.” 

“You should come see me after, in the fields,” Fíli says, as they walk. “During your midday.” 

“Maybe,” Ori hedges, but he takes Fíli's arm now and leans on him. They've walked like this before, had usually had their arms linked when they were children, drawn together instinctively. It's pleasant, comforting. “I don't know though. I might have to come home at midday.” 

“Why?” Ori never goes home for midday. None of them do. It's too far to bother, and Ori likes sitting in the sunshine with Fíli and Kíli and Gimli for his luncheon. 

“Never you mind,” Ori says, elbowing him a bit. “I'll see.”

“And my weapons practice, after you're done with you work,” Fíli adds, and really gets elbowed this time. “If I let you out of my sight for too long, you'll change your mind.” 

“I haven't made up my mind at all,” Ori reminds him with a scowl. “We'll talk about it tomorrow, all right?”

“All right.” He'll take what he can get on this matter. Ori is clearly not yet convinced, and Fíli has no doubt he'll put his foot in his mouth at some point tomorrow. “You have to promise to forgive me if I upset you tomorrow. Well, you know I will. So promise.”

“Or what?” Ori scoffs. 

“I'll kiss you right in front of Dori,” Fíli threatens, and very nearly gets cuffed around the ear. “Oi, should I get you a step-stool, so you might reach?” This time he does get struck, a smack on his chest even as Ori turns pink with laughter. “Don't think you can just hit me and get away with it, I'm the crown prince you know!”

“I'm so frightened,” Ori teases, walking backwards in front of Fíli. “You were so intimidating yesterday when Kíli knocked you into the river. Crown Prince, more like the Crown Drowned Sheepdog -”

“You're dead,” Fíli says, as Ori turns and runs, Fíli giving chase.

They get all the way to Ori's door before Fíli manages to actually catch him. He may have had watered down ale, but he had a lot, and Ori is a quick runner. He's usually Balin's messenger, so he gets more practice than Fíli, and it shows. Fíli does catch him though, grabbing his arm right as Ori dashes up the steps to his door. 

It makes Ori taller than him, and this way Fíli can see how bright his face is from the exercise and the cold, can see how he's laughing. 

“Hardly a win,” Ori says, but Fíli doesn't really hear him. 

“I want to kiss you again,” he announces, and Ori's smile softens as he stands there, his arm still in Fíli's hold. “And you might not let me tomorrow.” 

“No, I might not,” Ori agrees, looking up and down the street. When he seems to judge them being alone enough, he steps down to the bottom step, and bends down the little ways he needs to for them to kiss again. It's brief this time, but it's nice. “But I'll forgive you if you make me cry.” Fíli steals another kiss, but finds no resistance. “I have to go inside before Dori and -, well, before Dori gets back. And you have to go.”

“Do I?” Fíli asks, and Ori nods. “Good night then, Ori.”

“Good night, Fíli.” He slips away inside, shutting the door firmly. Fíli waits until he hears the latch turn, and then walks away, towards his own street.

His luck doesn't hold though, because he meets Dori before he's even off the street. He has an odd expression on his face, but when he sees Fíli, it turns back into an all too familiar disapproving frown. “Evening, Dori,” he greets politely. 

“What are you doing here, then?” It sounds like an accusation. 

“Walking Ori home,” Fíli answers, because that's true and Dori knows it. 

“Awfully late for him to just be getting in.” That too sounds like an accusation, but Fíli's mostly used to Dori's disapproval. “Where were you?”

“At a tavern. Where were you?”

Dori's frown deepens into an outright scowl. “Mind your manners, boy, or I'll ask your mother to remind you of them. And I doubt she would approve of you out walking so late with Ori.” 

“I doubt she'd approve of the way you speak to me,” Fíli replies, unimpressed. He's not frightened of Dori, not really, only wary. Ori might complain about being smothered, but he loves and respects Dori as a parent, and he hates it when Fíli is so disrespectful of him. “We were just having a drink with my cousin, Gimli. Everything was perfectly proper.”

“And yet you two walked home alone.” 

“Gimli was drunk, we took him home first,” Fíli explains neatly, now feeling a bit bad about tricking Gimli. Not too bad though, because Gimli can be a little git and sometimes he needs humbling. “Would you rather I let Ori walk alone?” 

“No, but I would like if you respected my wishes a bit more,” Dori says, moving the basket he's carrying further up on his arm. “But I do thank you for watching out for him. It's kind of you.” 

“I want to look out for him,” Fíli says, hoping for Dori to understand, to just give a little on this. 

Dori sighs. “I think we should say our good-byes, now, before one of us says something we regret.” He nods respectfully to Fíli, and turns away from him, continuing on down the street, Fíli going his way as well. 

He begins to hum as he walks, and before long he's singing to the empty street. 

He's probably going to push too hard tomorrow and Ori might cry or avoid him, but for right now, Fíli's all right with the world.


End file.
